A Second Heart
by kaytee412
Summary: When Blaine's father dies unexpectedly, he has to pick up the pieces. For Blaine, it's a journey of love, hope, and self-discovery.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** A Second Heart  
><strong>Author:<strong> kaytee412  
><strong>Artist: <strong>pawndilene  
><strong>Beta:<strong> nowheretogo26  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Violence, minor character death, slight homophobia  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>20,005  
><strong>Summary:<strong> When Blaine's father dies unexpectedly, he has to pick up the pieces. For Blaine, it's a journey of love, hope, and self-discovery.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Anything through Season 2 is fair game  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was originally posted on LiveJournal, so usernames will be according to that site. I just want to give a special thank you to my beta and soul mate, Nikki (nowheretogo26). She also made the gorgeous fanmix cover for this piece. Also, my sweet and encouraging artist Elena (pawndilene) created some absolutely _flawless_ illustrations for the story. I am naming Elena the hero of this fic! Shout outs to my cheerleaders and mentors Nicole (blue_icy_rose) and Star (star55) and the ladies who were always there to support and bounce around ideas with me: bluehippos, flyblckbirdfly, and ninja_a. Without this incredible group, I have no idea where I would be (even though I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be finished)

* * *

><p>The ringing woke Blaine up from a dead sleep, and for a moment he was confused; he slapped the top of his alarm, but the ringing didn't stop. It was then that he realized the sound was coming from his phone, not alarm. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled over and fumbled for his phone, flinching and abruptly shutting his eyes as the bright LCD screen assaulted his pupils. "Mom." Why was his mother calling him at...4:23am? Although that meant 7:23 for her; Blaine still sometimes forgot the time lapse between Ohio and California.<p>

"Mmello?" he mumbled into the speaker, voice rough. He felt Kurt stir slightly next to him as his mother's voice filled the other end of the line.

"Blaine, honey, it's me." Blaine felt a sudden feeling of dread fill him at the tone of his mother's voice. Was she crying? "I'm so sorry for calling you this early, and I honestly wasn't sure if you'd even pick up the phone, with your school just letting out the other day and everything. And UCLA, it's so early there..."

"Mom, what is it?" His mother was rambling; that was never a good thing. Much more alert now, Blaine tossed the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"

"It's...it's your father, Blaine." Blaine swallowed compulsively, biting at his lower lip. "He's...Blaine, your father passed away, honey."

Blaine felt his heart grow cold, and a wave of nausea hit him hard. "Just now?" he managed to ask, trying to keep his voice low for Kurt's sake. His mind was racing, trying to process everything he was hearing.

"Yes, well, late last night…I'm sorry, Blaine. It's all so sudden, and the doctors didn't even know this would happen. Not yet, anyway." He heard his mother draw in a shuddering breath. "We're making funeral arrangements tomorrow, though the funeral itself will likely be next Saturday, and the viewing Thursday. We're going to give it some time, so everyone can make it here...including you. I'm sorry I had to tell you over the phone, sweetheart. I know, considering all of the circumstances, this will be difficult for you to deal with. I wish I could be with you right now, but everything's just so sudden, and there's so much to take care of..."

"No, Mom, it's all right," Blaine reassured, although his head was spinning. "Don't worry about me, I'll be there for the...the funeral." The word sounded so foreign coming out of his mouth, and he licked his lips. "Get some sleep, mom, and call me if you need me, okay?"

"Yes, Blaine, and you too. I'm always here for you. Let Kurt know that he's welcome to come out here Saturday as well; you boys can stay as long as you'd like. I love you, Blaine."

"I love you too, Mom. Always."

Blaine shut off his phone and gripped it tightly in his palm, his other hand running through his hair.

His father was dead.

He had never actually had a family member die before, had never experienced what it felt like to lose someone - so permanently - forever. Should he be crying right now? He had never actually been considerably close to his father, like Kurt was with Burt, but he still loved him. Blaine felt guilty that tears weren't forming at this point, and that guilt was rapidly spreading, taking over the cavity in his chest.

"Blaine?" Blaine jumped slightly at Kurt's voice behind him, sheets rustling as Kurt sat up and leaned towards him. "Blaine, what's wrong? Why are you up right now?"

Blaine let out a small, breathy laugh; Kurt could always tell when something was wrong; hell, the lights weren't even on and Kurt could just sense that something was not right. "Kurt, my mother just called me..." his voice trailed off slightly, still trying to make himself say the words he knew were true. "My dad's dead."

Blaine heard Kurt's sharp intake of breath, but didn't turn around to look at him. He wasn't sure what to do, or say; he didn't want Kurt to pity him. Blaine felt Kurt wrap his arm around his waist as he slid next to him on the edge of the bed. The soft touch of Kurt's hand against his bare torso made him shiver. "Blaine, I...I'm so sorry. The leukemia..?"

"Yeah," Blaine croaked, his eyes trained on the shoe in the middle of the carpet below him. "I guess it was out of nowhere...my mom said the doctors weren't expecting it, at least not this early."

Blaine wondered why he was feeling so numb; yes, he felt overwhelming sadness, but at the same time...there was confusion. His father and he had never been terribly close; Blaine had lived with his mother after his parents' divorce when he was eight, and his coming out a few years later hadn't necessarily helped their relationship. However, at the same time, the man was his father. He had taught him how to ride a bike. How to write in cursive. How to play football.

"Blaine?"

"What?" Blaine looked at Kurt for the first time, and felt a stabbing pain at the deep sadness in those blue orbs.

"I asked when the funeral was..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Kurt. It's next Saturday."

If Kurt was annoyed by Blaine's inattentiveness, he didn't let it show. "Ten days?"

"Yeah. My mom wants time to get everyone into Westerville. We have family all over the place, you know." Blaine felt his voice become softer, and he started picking at his nails, a nervous habit.

Kurt placed his hand over Blaine's. "When do you want to go home?"

"I..." Blaine's eyes searched around the room, but for what he wasn't sure. Everything was suddenly closing in on him; the walls were moving forward, the room was getting - was it possible? - darker. His breathing escalated, and he started to panic. "Kurt, I can't do this." Blaine felt Kurt rubbing circles on his back, and heard his voice, but he couldn't make his body respond. He felt the tears well up - finally - and his hands started trembling. "Kurt, I can't do this, this...everything is wrong, Kurt, this can't be happening..."

"Hey, breathe, Blaine. Easy, it's going to be okay." Kurt continued rubbing Blaine's back, and he felt himself beginning to lean into Kurt's touch.

Blaine's breathing evened out only slightly at Kurt's soothing voice, but he couldn't stop himself from shaking, and he began to cry freely. "No, Kurt, nothing's okay right now. I don't know if anything's going to be okay." His voice cracked as his body was wracked with sobs. "He didn't get to see me accomplish anything, and I don't even know if I'm doing anything worthwhile; Kurt, I don't even feel like the same person anymore."

Blaine didn't know if he was making sense, but nothing was making sense to him anyway. Everything in his brain felt jumbled around, like someone had detached his head, shook it, and put it back on. All of the stresses from the past few weeks, past few months, began to surface and bubble out of him before he had a chance to stop himself. "I'm majoring in communications, Kurt. Communications! What the hell is that? I don't even get to sing anymore, not for real, anyway. We just finished our junior year of college and all of a sudden _now _I feel like I won't have a career after school. My dad always wanted me to become an engineer, or a business major. Hell, I didn't follow him or myself. What if I made a mistake, Kurt? How disappointed was he in me that his son became a communications major? How many mistakes have I honestly made in my life? I don't even know who I am anymore...

"My father just died, Kurt, and I don't know how to react. How pathetic is that? I mean, we weren't like best friends, but the least I could do is feel what I'm supposed to feel in this situation. Everything is wrong right now. The only reason I feel like I'm worth anything at all is because of you, Kurt. You keep me grounded, because otherwise I would have lost it several weeks back."

Blaine was never planning on letting Kurt in on his emotional turmoil; he had been feeling like this for weeks now, but kept pushing it down, insisting that it would go away eventually. There was no reason to worry Kurt with such things, it was just a phase. But after his mother's phone call, he couldn't sort through what was what. So he let it all out, everything, without second thought.

"Blaine. Look at me, honey." Blaine's hazel eyes met Kurt's, his vision slightly blurred by tears. "You are not, in any way, in the wrong here. There is no 'right way' to act when something like this happens...each individual is different. And I promise you, you're not alone in this. I'm here for you; your mother is here for you...we're supporting you, Blaine. No matter what. You made the choices you did for a reason. And it's normal to second guess them, but Blaine...I am so proud of you. For everything that you have accomplished, for all the right decisions you've made. Blaine, this is something that no one could predict, and you have to handle it in your own way."

Blaine's crying had subsided, and he leaned against Kurt in exhaustion. "I'm sorry; just...I don't know what to do with myself, Kurt. I feel so lost."

Kurt absent-mindedly twirled his fingers in Blaine's curls, and Blaine let the action comfort him. "The funeral is next Saturday...what if we didn't fly out there?" Blaine tensed up, and Kurt started speaking rapidly. "Oh no, I didn't mean that we wouldn't attend, but...what if we drove there instead? We could make a cross-country road trip out of it."

Blaine let the suggestion sink in for a moment, shivering against the goosebumps on his bare chest. "Kurt...I don't know."

"I think it'd be good for you, Blaine." Kurt's voice was so sure and unwavering. "I think it would help you to sort out everything, all of your feelings...I just think it'd be beneficial."

The finality and certainty in Kurt's voice convinced Blaine. "Okay." He was unsure of how this would benefit him, but he trusted Kurt with his life. They had been dating for five years now, lived together in the same apartment; it wouldn't make sense _not _to trust his judgment by now.

Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine's forehead, and Blaine was relieved to have Kurt by his side in all of this. "We can leave tomorrow. Take a few hours to pack and get on our way."

Blaine nodded, eyes suddenly feeling heavy. "I love you, Kurt."

"I love you too, Blaine."

Blaine breathed in Kurt's scent, leaning against him as he drifted back to sleep.

_Way down a New York town  
>Thinking 'bout the way he loves me<br>There's a hole in my pocket  
>That's about his size<br>But I hope everything is gonna be all right_

Blaine hummed softly, letting the vibrations of Kurt's chest as he sang lull him to sleep.

_A smiling face, straight in L.A.  
>The gifts are found at the bar<br>But I wish my car  
>Could drive to him tonight<br>Then I'd know everything is gonna be all right_

Blaine could feel Kurt combing through his hair with his fingers, and he was never more grateful for Kurt than in that moment. He always knew exactly what Blaine needed of him, without having to be asked. Blaine never asked for help, but he was so lucky that Kurt offered it freely.

_And I look at you  
>Warm in your dreams<br>While your mobile dances above  
>And I think to myself<br>'It's a beautiful night'  
>And I know everything is gonna be all right.<em>

Blaine felt Kurt kiss the back of his neck right before he fell back asleep.

_Yes now I know, it'll be all right._

* * *

><p>Kurt had allowed Blaine to sleep in until 10:00am, for which Blaine was grateful. However, when he awoke the second time, Blaine was almost positive that the night before had been a nightmare. When he saw Kurt packing their suitcases, he realized that he really couldn't escape what had happened.<p>

By noon they were packing into Blaine's Grand Am; he had insisted that it would receive better gas mileage than Kurt's Range Rover. Kurt appointed himself to drive first, and Blaine had a feeling that his boyfriend was unsure of whether or not he was mentally capable of driving at the moment. He didn't argue, either; everything was still sinking in, and he appreciated the extra time to sort everything out on his own.

Blaine heard the car door shut as Kurt climbed into the car. "Alright. 2,263 miles to go, according to Google maps." Kurt fixed the GPS to the dashboard, and then fastened his seat belt. "Are you ready?" he asked, a soft smile playing on his face.

Blaine couldn't help but smile back; Kurt was so adorable when he had his mind set on something. "I'm ready as I'll ever be."

"Good! Because it's seven hours until we get to Flagstaff, and I've decided that will be our first stop." Kurt donned his sunglasses as he started pulling out of the driveway.

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "You're going to go seven hours without stopping?" he asked incredulously, unable to fathom Kurt going that long without changing outfits, or even stopping for food.

Kurt let out a huff as he pulled onto the main road, shaking his head. "Yes, I am going to go seven hours without stopping. I'm going to do the planning on this trip, Blaine. You just relax and enjoy the ride."

Blaine admitted that Kurt's plan didn't seem all that bad; he had enough on his plate without worrying about scheduling their road trip. Blaine had always been one to over-plan, making sure to map out every stop, every meal, every destination, before leaving the house. It was a habit Kurt had been very vocal about, as Kurt was more free-spirited and spontaneous, but Blaine couldn't help it; it was a quality he picked up when he was very young.

_"Blaine, honey, hurry up and get your things packed; we have to leave for Dad's in ten minutes." Molly Anderson called from the floor below, and Blaine could hear the clicking of her heels against the wooden floors as she gathered his belongings._

_"Just a minute, mom!" Blaine threw a few more shirts into his suitcase, wanting to make sure he was adequately prepared. Being almost ten now, he was becoming more indecisive about his outfit choices than ever, especially when he visited his father. He only visited him a few times a year, mostly summers and Christmas breaks, and Blaine wanted to impress him each time._

_Once he had all of his necessities packed, Blaine picked up the yellow slip of paper on his bed and dragged his bags down the steps. "I'm ready," he announced, meeting his mother at the doorway._

_The woman smiled, pushing back her dark curls as she gestured at the paper in her son's hand. "What's that for?" she asked, and Blaine's eyes lit up._

_"Oh, this is my schedule for the week with dad," Blaine announced proudly, handing the slip to his mother. "I figured since we never get anything done when I visit, I'm going to make schedules now. I made sure to put everything in there that we're going to do. We're going to see the baseball game tomorrow night at 7:00, and when it ends we're going to get ice cream from the parlor down the street. I figure if we get home by 11:00, I'll be able to get enough rest to take him to the farmer's market on Sunday morning."_

_Blaine didn't notice the way his mother's smile faltered during the explanation of his itinerary. "This is a wonderful list, honey, but don't be too disappointed if you...can't fit everything in once you're at Dad's." Molly placed a hand on her son's shoulder, her tone soft and caring._

_Blaine looked up at his mother, confusion taking over his hazel eyes. "Mom, there's plenty of time! I made sure to give us a grace period for all the stops, just in case."_

_Molly licked her lips, forcing a wider smile as she opened the door. "You're right, kiddo; you guys will have a lot of fun. Let's get going so we won't be late."_

They hadn't been able to accomplish everything on Blaine's list that week; they had missed the baseball game, the flea market, the ice cream, and the aquarium. Blaine's father insisted that he had a lot of work to take care of, so they missed their scheduled movie as well.

As he became older, Blaine continued to make schedules for visiting his father; he found some sort of satisfaction in planning out their trips. He would spend hours imagining all of the fun he'd have with his dad, but once he actually got to his father's house, his plans never actually happened. When Blaine turned sixteen, he stopped putting his ideas on paper all together, realizing that it was a waste of time. However, he continued to plan everything out accordingly in his mind, although his destinations and activities were much more realistic. The aquarium turned into the grocery store, and the park turned into the gas station. There was no sense in trying to fool himself anymore, and he was tired of being let down. The only thing he could count on happening was the Ohio State Fair at the end of every summer. That had become tradition, at least up until Blaine had entered high school.

Blaine looked out the window, watching the southern California scenery roll by, he thought about how he had never grown out of the habit of planning out every detail of his life. Even when he had wanted to serenade Jeremiah at The Gap, he had planned it out first. He supposed he had his father to thank for being so well organized and level-headed; after all, he allowed Blaine to see which activities were superfluous and which were necessary. Now Blaine could make schedules for the day by prioritizing what needed to be done, not always with what he wanted to do.

But this trip was not for him to schedule, so he tried to stop himself from insisting that once they got to Flagstaff, he and Kurt needed to get gas and food, and hopefully find a hotel by 10:00. Kurt was taking care of this trip; Blaine was merely the passenger.

"Why don't we put on some music?" Kurt's voice snapped Blaine out of his reverie, and he caught the CD holder Kurt tossed to him. "Pick whatever you want!"

Blaine absent-mindedly flipped through the discs, smiling at Kurt's eclectic mix of CDs. Justin Timberlake, Adele, Maroon 5, Frank Sinatra...Blaine finally came to rest at Michael Jackson's "Number Ones," popping it into the CD player. He immediately skipped to "Smooth Criminal," humming along to the harmonies.

Kurt shot a glance at him. "Smooth Criminal?"

Blaine paused his humming, grinning at Kurt. "Of course. Smooth Criminal is quite possibly Michael's finest single. I mean, the artistry in it..."

"But you can't pick that over 'Billie Jean,' Blaine. I mean, really," Kurt insisted, though his tone made it clear he wasn't very serious.

"I certainly can, and I do," Blaine argued, leaning back in his seat. He knew what Kurt was doing, and he appreciated it. "Smooth Criminal is my all-time favorite Michael Jackson song." Blaine went back to humming, watching again out of his window. This had always been his least favorite part of traveling: going over long distances with nothing but flat scenery. There were no visual deviations to keep his interest.

Blaine was only half aware that the CD had ended and Kurt changed it until Kurt started singing along with the track.

_We were sitting with our backs against the world  
>Saying things that we thought would never hurt<br>Oh, who would've thought it would end up like this?  
>Where everything we talked about is gone<br>And the only chance we have of moving on  
>Is trying to take it back<br>Before it all went wrong_

Blaine shook his head, silently wondering if Kurt chose this song on purpose - it described his relationship with his father perfectly right now. Then again, Kurt had a knack for sneaking things in like this.

_Before the worst, before we mend  
>Before our hearts decide it's time to love again<br>Before too late, before too long  
>Let's try to take it back<br>Before it all went wrong_

Blaine bit his lip as Kurt continued the song, unsure of how to feel about it. There was sadness and anger and grief – he thought that if maybe he truly understood the relationship he had with his dad, then all of this would be easier. Deciding what emotions to feel, how to let things affect him. But he didn't.

_If the clouds don't clear  
>Then we'll rise above it, we'll rise above it<br>Heaven's gate is so near  
>Come walk with me through<br>Just like we used to, just like we used to_

_Let's take it back  
>Before it all went wrong<em>

* * *

><p>"Blaine."<p>

A firm hand shook his shoulder and Blaine started awake, pulling forward against his seatbelt. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, eyes darting around before finally resting on Kurt.

Kurt was watching him, an amused look playing on his features. "Blaine, we're in Flagstaff! You missed the 'Welcome to Arizona' sign, it was really very exciting."

Blaine noticed then that their car was parked. He looked around, rubbing at his stiff neck. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I would have loved to take part in that celebration with you," he laughed, voice rough with sleep. "We're at…Denny's?"

"It's okay, you needed more rest. And yeah, I figured you might be getting hungry. At least I am. I wanted to find an IHOP, but they're hard to come by out here, apparently. So Denny's will have to do."

Blaine recalled that he had refused breakfast earlier this morning, much to Kurt's disappointment, and noted that he indeed was hungry. He was actually relieved that the overwhelming sick feeling he had been carrying since the previous night had dulled somewhat. It was still there, though, much like the semi-numb sensation that hadn't left since his mother's phone call. Blaine noticed that sometimes those feelings were much more profound, but when he was actively engaged with Kurt, the numbness and nausea were quelled.

He unfastened his seatbelt, looking at Kurt gratefully. "I'd love something to eat; I'm starving." He noticed the way Kurt's eyes lit up, and they couldn't enter the restaurant fast enough.

Blaine glanced at his pocket watch as they waited for their meals – 8:16. They had actually made pretty good time, all things considered. If they finished dinner by 9:00 and moved quickly, they could…

_Will you stop it? Jesus Christ, it's like you're twelve again,_ Blaine berated himself, grabbing the straw out of his Coke and drinking out of the end. He refused to start this again, and he looked up at Kurt. "Where are we going to stay tonight?" he asked curiously, and Kurt shrugged.

"We have a few options. There's a Hampton Inn around the corner from here, a La Quinta down the street, and I think there's a Marriott a few blocks down." He wrinkled his nose in distaste, "there's a Super 8 motel around here too, but I've never been comfortable with the doors just out in the open like that."

Blaine put down his straw and leaned forward, intrigued. "Really? I didn't ever think anything of it. We'd stay in motels like that quite often when my dad," he faltered slightly, "would travel for his business trips. Sometimes he'd take me, when I was visiting him, but he didn't like to…splurge on nicer hotels."

"I didn't know that," Kurt commented, leaning back slightly as their waitress delivered their food.

"Thank you." Blaine acknowledged their server, and the young waitress nodded, returning his smile before walking away. "Yeah, I don't know, I guess I just never thought much about it because I'm used to them."

Kurt tilted his head to the side, cutting into his omelet. "Yeah, I suppose that's true. I don't know, I've just always thought it was unsafe. Any stranger can just come knocking on your door…" He took a large bite of egg, silently telling Blaine it was his turn to talk.

Blaine finished swallowing his pancakes before pursing his lips. "The design probably isn't all that great," he admitted. "Well, we won't stay there, especially if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Oh, well it's not a big deal. I mean, of course I'd rather stay at a nicer place though, so…I'm thinking the Marriott will do just fine."

Blaine didn't care where they stayed, actually; they could have slept in the car for all he cared. But if Kurt wanted to stay at the Marriott, then that's where they would go. He nodded, slicing through another section of pancake. "Well hopefully they have comfortable beds, because we have a lot of traveling to do," he commented playfully.

* * *

><p>"<em>Happy Father's Day!" Blaine announced as his dad walked down the stairs, adjusting his apron. He leaned over the stovetop and flipped a pancake as Steven walked into the kitchen.<em>

"_Wow, thanks, Blaine," Steven said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looked around, admiring the set up at the table. "This is really nice."_

_Blaine put the pancakes on the tray, looking over his shoulder at his father. He wasn't sure if his dad was completely honest about being excited or not, but it was nice to hear it. "I've got breakfast all done, and I thought later we could go see a movie."_

_Steven sat down as Blaine added pancakes and bacon to his plate. "Okay, that sounds good," Steven agreed, taking a bite of bacon. "I was thinking we'd see that new Morgan Freeman movie that came out."_

_Blaine had heard that movie was terrible, but he wouldn't disappoint his dad. "Yeah, good idea." They sat in silence for a few moments, and Blaine wondered how much his father was really looking forward to the day. He had spent the better half of the morning planning the outing, and now it seemed like Steven was less than thrilled._

"_This is really good Blaine," Steven complimented, looking up from his plate. Blaine could see the appreciation in his father's eyes, and it made his heart swell. That's when he knew that the work was worth it._

"_Thanks Dad."_

"_So what do you want to do after the movie?"_

_Blaine shrugged, looking at his dad pointedly. "It's _your _day, Dad," he reminded him, and Steven gave a lopsided grin._

"_Hm, I suppose it is…maybe we can go play a round of golf. What do you say?"_

_Blaine nodded eagerly, wanting nothing more than to spend quality time with his dad. "That sounds great!"_

"_Good, then it's settled." Steven stood and started clearing the table, but Blaine jumped in front of him and took the dishes himself._

"_Dad, you're not supposed to be cleaning up! It's _your _day!"_

_Steven chuckled, watching as Blaine cleaned up from breakfast. "Oh right, I forgot."_

_Blaine smiled; he hadn't seen his dad this carefree in a long time, and it made him proud to know that he was the cause of it. Blaine couldn't remember the last time they had really spent time together, either. Not like this, anyway._

_Sometimes, Blaine would wonder his dad was always so serious. He didn't seem to take time out to enjoy everything in life, as Blaine tried to make sure he always did himself. Steven Anderson was very respectful, sure, but often times he was stoic and strict. Blaine knew that he did it because he cared, but other days Blaine really wanted to just see his dad as many other fathers he had seen before: fun-loving and open. Blaine's dad just didn't show emotion often, and Blaine always assumed he got his emotional personality from his mother._

_Blaine hoped, just for a moment, that maybe this would be a turning point for his dad. That after this Father's Day, he would be able to open up more. Blaine enjoyed hanging around his father when he was more relatable like this._

_So they went and saw the movie; Blaine ordered the large bucket of popcorn, knowing full well that they wouldn't be able to finish it, and Steven left the theatre disappointed in the plotline of the film. Blaine knew that would happen, but he wanted his dad to pick the movie. They rarely ever saw them, and he knew Steven had a thing for Morgan Freeman movies, so why not let it slide?_

_Then the two had gone golfing. Blaine swung his club with too much force that it flew out of his hands, landing on the roof of the maintenance facility. He didn't know whether he or his dad was more embarrassed when the groundskeeper had to climb on a ladder to retrieve it, and Blaine explained in detail that _this _was why he didn't play sports in school._

_Steven ran a hand over his face, holding the rogue golf club in his hand. "That…that was different," he observed, trying to find the right words to explain himself._

_Blaine felt the heat rise in his face and he stared at the ground. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to, I've just never played before and I didn't have the right grip, I guess."_

_Steven watched his son carefully. "Blaine, it's…it's all right," he sighed, clapping Blaine on the back. "Come on, we still have a few more holes left."_

_Blaine perked his head up, watching his dad walk down the course. "We're still going to play?"_

"_Sure," Steven called over his shoulder, still walking, "it's my day, right?"_

_Blaine could hear the hint of amusement in his father's voice, and he ran to catch up._

_He would remember this day for a long time to come._

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't want to wipe out his budget on the first hotel room of the trip, so they got the standard one bedroom at Blaine's insistence. The check-in clerk had given them a steady, slightly menacing glare as he handed over their key, and Blaine had accepted it with the biggest smile he could muster. One of these days he would stand up for himself, but he had always tried to choose his battles wisely.<p>

"Fucking asshole," Kurt muttered once they entered the elevator.

Blaine shook his head, rubbing Kurt's shoulder affectionately. "Don't," he stated simply, his voice calming and light.

Blaine hated when Kurt would get so worked up over homophobia; sure, it bothered Blaine, but he tried not to take it to heart anymore. He had seen a lot since he had come out, being beaten up twice and having vicious slurs thrown at him just two of the things, and Blaine was sure he would continue to see hatred throughout his life. It just didn't seem worth it to waste his energy on people whose life goal was to bring them down.

Kurt was always one to try and stand up for what he believed in, though. Blaine would fight to the death if someone threatened or hurt Kurt in any way, but he never stood up for himself. He always found it easier to shrug it off and continue on his way. Kurt would argue with anyone who even attempted to say something negative to him, whether it be against Blaine or Kurt himself. Blaine admired that about his boyfriend, that he would stick to his convictions even when it concerned himself. Blaine didn't often defend himself; he wasn't sure if that was because he thought he wasn't worth it, or because he was so afraid of confrontation after everything in his past.

Blaine tried to keep Kurt from getting too vocal, though. The last thing he wanted to see was Kurt getting hurt because of him; Blaine had no problem with Kurt standing up for them, but sometimes, he thought Kurt got a little carried away. And he knew that the world had enough hate that it wouldn't think twice about silencing someone who was so different in his opinions.

Upon entering their room, Kurt tossed his suitcase next to the bed, flopping down on the mattress with an exaggerated sigh. Blaine set his bag next to Kurt's more gently, watching Kurt with an amused grin.

"Something funny, dear?" Kurt asked from his place on the bed, raising an eyebrow.

Blaine raised his hands in a placating manner, taking a step back. "Absolutely not. I was just admiring the view."

Kurt wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Blaine gave a half-hearted laugh before leaving for the bathroom. He locked the door, taking in his reflection in the mirror. God, why hadn't Kurt told him that his under-eye circles were so dark? He frowned, unsuccessfully attempting to flatten out the dark curls that had broken free from his gel.

After about five minutes of struggling, Blaine gave up on his hair; Kurt always said he liked it a little curlier, more natural, but he had always been self-conscious about it.

"_Son, we have errands to run. You can't go out like that. Why can't you take care of that mop on your head, huh?" Steven Anderson asked sternly, looking down and crossing his arms._

_Blaine shrugged, focusing his eyes on his shoes now instead of his father. A few curls fell into his line of vision. "I don't know, Dad. I just get tired of putting all that stuff in my hair every day," he half-mumbled._

_Steven sighed, shaking his head in disapproval; that always hurt Blaine's feelings more than getting yelled at. "Blaine, you're eleven years old now. You're not a child anymore; you need to start taking care of yourself and your appearance."_

"_But Mom doesn't make me—"_

"_What your mother does in her house is not my business," Steven quipped, grabbing his keys off of the side table. "But in _my _house, you abide by my rules." He checked his watch. "Three minutes, Blaine, and then I'm leaving for the store. If you're not done straightening out your hair by then, you won't be able to come with me and you'll miss your movie."_

_Blaine grudgingly agreed, rushing upstairs to flatten out his untidy mane. He took two minutes and forty-eight seconds, Steven counted, but he was adequately dressed to go out with his father._

_They never did see the movie._

Blaine secretly wondered how many bottles of gel he had gone through in his lifetime, religiously using it since that instance with his father. Only once had he forgotten to use it; his dad had promptly refused to do anything until he had fixed his hair. Although Kurt always commented on how much he liked them, Blaine often cursed his mother's curly-haired genetics.

His father had pin-straight hair.

A knock on the bathroom door made Blaine jump, knocking off the courtesy shampoo bottle. "Blaine? You okay?"

Blaine scrambled to pick up the bottle, putting it back on the counter. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm good," he called, opening the door and smiling at Kurt. "Sorry, I was trying to fix my hair and…got lost in thought."

Blaine picked up on the concern that flashed over Kurt's features, but Kurt hid it well. "Okay, well that's all right. I was just going to start my nightly regimen, if you're finished in here."

"Oh yeah, go for it." Blaine left the bathroom, knowing Kurt needed at least half an hour to get ready for bed. It was already 11:30, and Blaine couldn't remember ever feeling this exhausted. He wished check-out wasn't at noon, because he could probably sleep well into tomorrow afternoon.

Lazily, he sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes. Next he peeled off his shirt and replaced his jeans with the sweatpants he had packed.

Blaine flipped on the television, still leaving the volume low while Kurt finished his routine. He laid on his side, propping his head on the pillow as a story came on about new casinos opening in Las Vegas.

Blaine fell asleep before Kurt had even exited the bathroom.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, midget!"<em>

_Blaine heard the calling from behind him but tightened his hold around his books, heading determinedly home. He knew who was yelling at him, and he knew he didn't need to stop._

"_Do you hear me, fag? Why don't you stop and talk, huh?" Blaine felt his heart constrict at the use of the word "fag"; he had only come out at the end of the summer, to his mom and close friends, and somehow it had made its way around the school in the first week. He still wasn't used to all of the name-calling yet._

_Blaine heard footsteps getting closer to him as he attempted to speed up his own walking, but eventually a hand on his shoulder threw him around. He lost his grip on his textbooks and they fell to the ground. Blaine caught his footing, jerking his shoulder away from the taller kid in front of him. "Just leave me alone," he pleaded, voice not as strong as he would have liked._

_Two other kids came up from behind the first, and Blaine felt himself grow cold as he was surrounded. "And why would we do that, Blainey? Josh here told us about what you are," one kid – Blaine remembered him, Nick Henderson – sneered. _

"_You see, we don't like things like _you_," Josh emphasized. Blaine knew Josh and his brother, Luke, from his math class; Blaine was the only freshman in the junior math class, and they had always teased him about his height and his intelligence. It only made sense that they would include Nick in their taunts once they found out about his sexuality._

"_Listen, I don't want any trouble," Blaine insisted, taking a tentative step backward._

_Nick moved forward and grabbed the collar of Blaine's shirt, and Blaine felt himself being lifted off the ground slightly. "If that were true, then you wouldn't be here spreading your _filth _around our school," he spat._

_Blaine tried to pry Nick's hands away, but it was difficult to do while he was trying to breathe around his tightening collar. "I didn't do anything to you, just let me go home," he begged, pushing backwards with the balls of his feet that skimmed the sidewalk._

_Josh walked around behind Blaine, slamming his foot into the back of Blaine's knees. Blaine let out a constricted yelp as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his right knee. "You did _everything _to us when you decided to flaunt your sins," Josh chastised dangerously. He aimed another kick to Blaine's ribs and Blaine curled in on himself, feeling white hot flames lick at his side. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out as the other two joined in on the torment._

_It seemed like ages later, but eventually the attacks stopped. Slowly, Blaine opened his eyes and looked up at the three faces above him; he grit his teeth against the pain searing through his body and the tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry." Blaine knew, inside, that there was no reason for him to be apologizing. He was just being himself; but he didn't want to hurt anymore. He just wanted to go home._

"_Maybe next time you'll be sorry _before _trying to spread your gay all over the place," Luke growled, and he and the other two boys left. Just like that they left Blaine, curled up and bleeding on the sidewalk, alone._

_Blaine didn't move for several minutes, using the time to catch his breath and manage the pain tearing through his legs and abdomen. He thought about trying to get up and finish walking home, but even he knew that was not a realistic idea. Carefully, he slid his cell phone out of his pocket, pressing speed dial two._

"_Hey honey, are you on your way home yet?" The sound of his mother's voice on the other end of the phone sent waves of emotion through Blaine, and he let out a choked sob. "Blaine? Blaine, where are you, are you safe?"_

"_Mom," Blaine squeaked into the phone. "I need you…"_

* * *

><p>They left Flagstaff at noon the next day, and it took roughly six hours to make it to Albuquerque. They made a brief pause at the ArizonaNew Mexico state line, Blaine insisting that he needed to stretch his legs before they went any further.

Now that they had entered Albuquerque, however, Kurt had turned off of the interstate, much to Blaine's surprise.

"Um, Kurt? Where are we going?" he asked tentatively, glancing out of the window.

"Don't worry about it, Blaine; I've got everything under control," Kurt insisted, keeping his eyes on the road.

Blaine let out a short huff, rolling his eyes. He didn't like that Kurt was being so cryptic; in fact, it was starting to get on his nerves slightly. He knew it shouldn't be; Kurt was just trying to make this trip easy and fun for him, but he couldn't help it. Blaine was used to being in control of situations, and this was a whole different ball game to him.

Kurt pulled up to a dirt pathway, bringing Blaine back to the present. Turning around the corner, Blaine felt his heart stop upon seeing a giant Ferris wheel. He bit his lip, watching all of the people walking from the grassy parking area to the entrance. There were rides and animals and tents…

They were at a fair.

"_Come on Blaine, you have to keep up!" Steven Anderson called over his shoulder, making his way through the dusty campgrounds._

_Blaine stopped petting the goat he was visiting and ran to catch up with his dad, smoky brown clouds coming up with his feet. He loved visiting the animals at the fair; when he was younger, his dad would lift him up to pet the horses too. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" When he reached his father's side he tried to catch his breath, pulling up his jacket that had fallen off one shoulder._

"_Be careful Blaine, I don't want you getting your new jacket dirty," Steven chided, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder affectionately. He smiled down at his son, and Blaine's eyes lit up._

"_I will, dad, I promise," he agreed, picking up his feet more now than he usually did._

"_Well hey, how about we get something to eat, huh?" Steven suggested, and Blaine nodded vigorously, making his dad laugh. "All right, I guess that settles it then!"_

_They were making their way over to the food stand when a tall, broad man cut in front of Blaine. Blaine, being rather small in frame, stopped in his tracks, trying not to fall over backwards. Before he knew it, more and more people were passing in front of him, and Blaine could no longer see his father._

"_Dad?" Blaine called, trying to push past the people in front of him. He tried to move forward, but kept getting stopped by bodies in front of him. Why did he have to be so much smaller than everyone else?_

_Blaine began to hyperventilate slightly, frantic eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of his father. "Dad! Where are you?" he shouted, ducking under peoples' arms to get out of dodge. His heart felt like it was in his throat; what if he couldn't find his dad? They were having such a good time, and they only did this once a year. Now he was alone…how was he going to get home?_

_Blaine felt an elbow jab into his side by someone passing by, and he lost his balance, stumbling to the ground. He started coughing, inhaling the large amounts of dirt that had flown up, and rolled onto his side. He panicked then, noticing the dark stains all over his jacket and slacks. Blaine felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes; he had _just _said he wouldn't get his clothes dirty!_

"_Dad," he called again, voice weaker this time. He balled his hands into fists, tears starting to fall freely now. Why was no one helping him?_

"_Blaine!"_

_Blaine's eyes snapped up at the sound of his father's voice, and he saw Steven running towards him. "Dad." He allowed himself to be picked up, feeling as though he had run out of energy._

"_Blaine, what happened? You scared me," Steven said, brushing the dirt off of Blaine's jacket._

"_I got separated," Blaine mumbled, chewing on the inside of his lip. "Sorry."_

_Steven sighed, a mixture of frustration and relief evident in his features. He ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head. "It's all right son, just be more careful next time, okay?" Blaine nodded, and Steven seemed to think for a moment before continuing. "I think maybe we should head home now, though."_

_Blaine was crushed; the one time they were enjoying themselves, he had to go and ruin it. Blaine nodded just enough to be noticed and followed his father to their car. He was supposed to start high school in a week, yet he still screwed everything up like he was a child._

_It was the last fair they had attended._

"I don't know about this, Kurt," Blaine started slowly, looking over at Kurt as they got out of the car.

"Why not? I think it'd be fun; take your mind off of things for a while." Kurt made his way to Blaine's side, taking off his sunglasses.

Blaine sighed, "I know you mean well, Kurt, but I've had…some not so great experiences at fairs," he confessed, fiddling his fingers together.

Kurt just gave a small smile, inclining his head only a bit. "I know," he said softly, and Blaine's brows furrowed.

"Then why..?"

"Just trust me," Kurt suggested, holding out his hand. After only a slight hesitation, Blaine took Kurt's hand in his own, allowing himself to be lead into the campgrounds.

The loud, pulsating atmosphere made Blaine nervous; he hadn't been a fan of crowds in general, but when he got lost from his dad at the fair, it had ignited his distaste even more.

Blaine kept close to Kurt as they passed several carnival rides and game booths, but Kurt didn't seem to mind. Their hands brushed against each other's every so often, and Blaine had to keep himself from taking hold of Kurt's. Unfortunately, they never knew what kind of area they were in, or how tolerant the locals were.

"Step right up and let me guess your weight! If I don't guess within five pounds, you're a winner!" The man with the microphone yelled, and Blaine shrugged past him. He never understood the appeal of fairs. Not anymore.

He and Kurt made their way to a tent with another rather large crowd outside of the opening. Kurt took his hand this time, pushing his way past the others and leading Blaine inside the tent. Blaine immediately saw all of the animals: goats, sheep, chicken…this was a petting zoo.

Blaine laughed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at Kurt. "Kurt, how did you know..?"

"That your dad would take you to the petting zoos at the fair?" Kurt finished gently, and Blaine felt a lump grow in his throat. He nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath to keep himself from crying. Kurt just smiled that same, knowing smile that made Blaine's heart melt. "You've told me a lot more in the past five years than you realize, Blaine."

Blaine felt stupid, but all he could do was nod; he hadn't been to a petting zoo since he was thirteen years old. That was the last year they had gone together. Even when he was thirteen he felt too old to be there, but it was one of the few things he and his dad would do together in the summer. Blaine and his father had stopped going after they drifted apart, but it continued to hold a special meaning to Blaine.

He walked up to one of the sheep and knelt down, not caring if his jeans became dirty. "Hey there, pretty girl," he said under his breath, scratching behind the animal's ear. The sheep moved in toward Blaine, and he laughed when it nuzzled quickly at his chin. "I know, I know they just don't give you enough attention here!"

Blaine didn't even notice the crowds anymore; he didn't notice the dirt seeping past his jeans, Kurt watching him carefully from behind, or the screaming from the nearby rides. He was completely focused on the animal in front of him, and lost in memories of him and his dad.

Blaine didn't remember bringing this up to Kurt, but apparently he had at one point or another. And Blaine had never been so grateful for Kurt's amazing memory, because for a minute, Blaine could pretend he was a kid again. He was a kid who wasn't afraid of his future, who was still proud of who he was, a kid who had his father's love; a kid who had everything.

Blaine started humming, not even realizing that he was singing for the first time in months. It didn't take long for Kurt to quietly join in on the tune. Blaine, unwilling yet to sing the actual lyrics, provided the foundations for Kurt's melody.

_Yesterday  
>All my troubles seemed so far away<br>Now it looks as though they're here to stay  
>Oh I believe in yesterday<em>

Blaine went from each animal to the next, flashes of his father's face appearing in front of him. He remembered how happy he felt on trips like this with his dad, and he tried to encompass that feeling around him.

_Suddenly  
>I'm not half the man I used to be<br>There's a shadow hanging over me  
>Oh, yesterday came suddenly<em>

Blaine looked back at Kurt, gratitude shining in his hazel eyes; he didn't think he could feel this full, this carefree, when dealing with this situation. He realized that maybe he didn't understand his father as completely as he thought he did. After all, Blaine had forgotten just how complete he felt when taking trips like this with him.

_Why she  
>Had to go, I don't know<br>She wouldn't say  
>I said something wrong<br>Now I long for yesterday_

* * *

><p><em>Blaine weaved his way through the crowded mall beside his father; although they looked very similar, Blaine's curly hair and height difference were distinct. He often cursed his mother's genetics at times like these, where he could barely see around the people in front of him.<em>

"_Well one thing we don't have to worry about is getting you more clothes," Steven laughed, and Blaine couldn't tell if he was serious or not._

"_Yeah, well the Dalton uniform gets a little old after a while," Blaine sighed, making his way to the food court with this dad._

"_I suppose it would, but it's always so much nicer looking. It makes everything much more succinct. Crisp, if you will."_

_Blaine absent-mindedly pulled on the sleeves of his Dalton blazer as they got in line at the Starbucks. "What else do we need to get?"_

"_I just need to make a quick stop at the Apple store; they had the new iPods on display, and I was looking at maybe getting one."_

_Blaine nodded, pulling his messenger bag further up onto his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something else, but he spotted one of his father's business partners approaching them._

"_Steven!" the suited man greeted, and Mr. Anderson promptly shook the man's hand._

"_Dave, how are you?" he greeted, and Dave nodded enthusiastically._

"_Good, I'm good – getting started on that report due Monday when I get home."_

_They continued their conversation as Blaine stood by, shifting his weight awkwardly. Steven seemed to get the hint, as he cleared his throat and put his hand on Blaine's back._

"_Dave, I believe you've met my son, Blaine," he introduced, and Dave gave a brisk nod – not at all like the enthusiastic nod that he had given earlier._

"_Yes, I have once before. Not for a few years though." Dave looked at Blaine coldly, and Blaine shrank in on himself, suddenly very uncomfortable under the man's gaze. To be polite, Blaine held out his hand, but Dave just shoved his own hands further into his pockets._

_Biting his lip, Blaine dropped his hand and averted his gaze. He knew what this was going to be about, and he wished he could disappear, if only for a moment. It was always so embarrassing, when people wouldn't even _touch _him, just because he was gay. Like he was sick or contagious._

"_Is something wrong, Dave?" Steven asked, an edge to his voice. Blaine started chewing on the inside of his cheek; he was fifteen years old, he should be able to think of something to say for once. Instead, he was frozen on the spot._

"_Nothing's wrong, Steven. I just…heard about what happened to your son, is all. Things get around quickly in Westerville. It's something I don't want to associate with, if you understand." Dave spat the word "son," as if it was some abomination, and Blaine couldn't have felt any smaller than he did then._

"_I'm sorry, what _happened _to my son?" Steven repeated, crossing his arms. Blaine knew this look; his father only wore it when someone was threatening his family. Blaine had only seen it a few times, and he knew it was dangerous._

"_You know, his…well, being what he is, I just don't want any part of it." Blaine felt as if he had been slapped in the face; he had only been away from public school for two months and although the school was much safer and more accepting, he wasn't anticipating _adults _putting him down so soon._

"_Being what I am?" Blaine wondered aloud, but he knew he was in the background now. Steven and Dave were in their own world._

"_I'm sorry, but there is _nothing _wrong with my son," Steven argued. He took a step closer, pointing a finger at Dave's chest. "He doesn't have some _disease_, as you seem to think. He is a good boy. He is a caring, intelligent, and selfless human being. You have no right to speak about him like that." There was such a strong finality in Mr. Anderson's voice, and Blaine looked up at his father with awe._

"_Steven, you have to understand it's not you."_

"_If it's about Blaine, then it's about me." Steven narrowed his eyes, "I don't think there's anything further to talk about here." He stared unwaveringly at Dave, and the man seemed to become smaller under his gaze._

"_Fine. Doesn't matter to me." Dave turned to leave, and Blaine felt a surge of appreciation for his father._

_Mr. Anderson put an arm around his son, maintaining a tighter hold than usual. "What do you say we grab that iPod and then head home?" he asked, eyes never leaving Dave's retreating form._

"_Yeah," Blaine answered, his voice thick with emotion. "Let's go."_

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** A Second Heart  
><strong>Author:<strong> kaytee412  
><strong>Artist: <strong>pawndilene  
><strong>Beta:<strong> nowheretogo26  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Violence, minor character death, slight homophobia  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>20,005  
><strong>Summary:<strong> When Blaine's father dies unexpectedly, he has to pick up the pieces. For Blaine, it's a journey of love, hope, and self-discovery.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Anything through Season 2 is fair game  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was a challenge and a half for me, but I'm so proud of how it turned out. I just want to give a special thank you to my beta and soul mate, Nikki (nowheretogo26). She also made the gorgeous fanmix cover for this piece. Also, my sweet and encouraging artist Elena (pawndilene) created some absolutely _flawless_ illustrations for the story. I am naming Elena the hero of this fic! Shout outs to my cheerleaders and mentors Nicole (blue_icy_rose) and Star (star55) and the ladies who were always there to support and bounce around ideas with me: bluehippos, flyblckbirdfly, and ninja_a. Without this incredible group, I have no idea where I would be (even though I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be finished)

* * *

><p>The next day, Kurt and Blaine had driven straight from Albuquerque to Oklahoma City, stopping only briefly in Amarillo, Texas to have lunch. Blaine offered to take a shift driving this time, feeling slightly uncomfortable that he was making Kurt drive the entire time. Although Kurt argued that Blaine wasn't <em>making <em>him do anything, he agreed to let Blaine drive the second half of the shift. Whether or not it was just to appease him, Blaine would never know.

After making it to Oklahoma City, Kurt decided they had better find a hotel for the night, apparently having nothing special planned for this particular stop. Blaine didn't mind; he felt completely exhausted still from their stop in New Mexico.

Blaine stretched out on the twin bed of their new hotel room, listening quietly to the sound of Kurt getting ready for bed. He didn't turn on the television yet, instead taking time to relax and gather his thoughts for once.

Blaine felt the bed dip as Kurt sat next to him; he grinned when Kurt lifted Blaine's legs, draping them over his lap. "How are you feeling?" he asked sincerely, and Blaine propped his head up on his hand.

"Good, Kurt. Listen…thank you, for yesterday. Well, for the whole trip so far. It means a lot to me, the fact that you remember so much about everything." _You remember so much about everything? Very articulate, Blaine_.

"Of course, Blaine. You're going through a really difficult time here, and I know everything hasn't gone the way you'd like it to. Even outside of the obvious, and I really want to just help you here."

Blaine felt like Kurt's eyes were piercing into his soul; he'd felt that way before, but it had never been so unnerving. He broke eye contact, only for a second. "I know, Kurt…and it means a lot to me." _Jesus, you're like a broken record. _"I just…it's a lot, you know? My dad and I used to be very close, but obviously we've drifted apart quite a bit over the past few years. I still love him, I mean…loved." Blaine's eyes stung with tears after correcting himself to past-tense, and he shook his head. "And everything you're doing for me, it's helping so much, because I can remember…Christ, I can actually _remember _how much he meant to me. Even if…he wasn't the quintessential 'father figure' like Burt, or whatever."

Blaine wiped at his eyes quickly; he didn't want to keep crying about this. He was never once to be over-emotional, rather trying to stay strong and courageous for everyone around him. But he and Kurt didn't have barriers like that, so why did he keep hiding?

Kurt adjusted his position so he was lying next to Blaine, pulling him up against his chest. "Tell me."

Those words, so simple, spoke volumes to Blaine; it was exactly what he needed to hear. "There were so many things…so many things that people would think were 'wrong' with how he raised me. He was in the Army, Kurt, so he would time my getting ready in the morning, or make sure I was presentable in my appearance from a young age. He wasn't overly expressive of his feelings, or his…his _love_, per se." Blaine knew he was repeating facts he was sure Kurt already knew, but he felt like he needed to get _everything _off of his chest. "But he was so caring too, Kurt. He wasn't a very emotional person, so we didn't bond much…even when I visited, but there were some ways I could just _tell_, you know? Like I remember his panic when I got lost at the fair when I was thirteen. The way he would rest a hand on my shoulder, like he wanted to protect me from the world, yet strengthen me to face it head-on. Those little things that I didn't remember before, I can remember _now_." He grabbed hold of Kurt's hand that was wrapped around his waist. "And I have you to thank for that, Kurt. He deserves to be remembered like that."

Kurt pressed a kiss to the back of Blaine's neck, making him shiver slightly. "He will be remembered fondly, sweetheart. And we still have half the trip to go to remember more."

"Yeah, we do."

* * *

><p>Leaving Oklahoma City, Blaine leaned back in his seat, still fuming about the news that morning.<p>

The anchor for the channel six news, who had horribly over-processed blond hair and fake eyelashes, debated with a college student about whether or not transgendered women should be able to use the women's restroom. This apparently came after an incident at a local McDonald's, where a transgendered woman was beat into a seizure for using the women's bathroom. Blaine had watched the footage being played with his mouth open, watching the horrific scene in front of him and the employees that had just _walked by_ without so much as a glance at the girl being pummeled.

Blaine had turned the television off after seeing the video and he could practically feel the rage emitting through his pores. There was _no way_ that had happened; the amount of cruelty in the world knew no bounds, apparently.

He had ranted about it to Kurt, the unfairness and violence of it all; Kurt had listened to him the entire time, bless his heart, but Blaine still could not come to terms with what he had seen. It reminded him too much of his time at public school. However this was worse, because it was in such a public and even, to an extent, _adult _forum. How could _no one _step in and help that poor girl?

* * *

><p>"<em>Blaine Warbler," Kurt began, taking Blaine's hand from across the table. "Will you go to junior prom with me?"<em>

"_Prom?" Blaine asked, mildly shell shocked. He knew prom was coming up, and probably should have guessed that Kurt was going to bring this up, but he wasn't anticipating this. Not now._

"_You don't want to go with me?" Kurt asked suddenly, pulling his hand back._

"_No! No, of course I want to go with you!" Blaine tried to make amends, grasping for Kurt's hand once more, but to no avail. "It's just…prom," he sighed, putting his head in his hand._

"_What about prom, Blaine?" Kurt asked, frustration evident in his voice._

_Blaine felt his heart sink – it wasn't fair that Kurt couldn't get a straight answer from him. "At my old school, there was a Sadie Hawkins dance," he started, mind reeling with the memories. He tried not to think about it – he couldn't think about it. "And I had _just _come out. So, I asked a friend of mine – the only other gay guy in the school. While we were waiting for his dad to pick us up…" Blaine paused, closing his eyes briefly. He hadn't talked about this in so long, he thought it was forgotten. "These three guys…beat the living crap out of us." He didn't want to add in the part where his father had told him it was a bad idea to go to the dance, and Blaine had blatantly ignored him._

_He looked up carefully, judging the look in Kurt's eyes. Blaine heard Kurt offer some sort of apology, but he just shook his head. "I mean, I'm out, I'm proud, and all that, but this…this is just sort of a sore spot." He laughed slightly, trying to make the mood a little less somber, but it didn't work._

_Kurt offered to go to a movie instead of prom, but who was Blaine to deny this of Kurt? He deserved to experience prom, just like every other normal teenager. Blaine wouldn't do that to him, bad experiences or not. "I'm crazy about you."_

"_I'll take that as a yes?" Kurt asked carefully._

"_Yes." The bouncing cheer that Kurt made was worth it to Blaine; he would just have to work on suppressing his memories once again. He also hoped he could keep the dance a secret from his dad; he would never purposely go behind his father's back like this, but Kurt needed him._

_On prom night, Blaine wondered briefly if he always made decisions for everyone else's happiness; he stood in the large room, terrified more than he would ever let on and trying to seem at ease, for Kurt's sake. He would so much rather be at the movies with Kurt, without all of the nightmares of his past resurfacing. But Blaine would always put Kurt before himself, and he knew that. He didn't know why he'd ever consider doing something for his own benefit, not when he could make Kurt so happy._

* * *

><p>By the time they had reached Springfield, it was 10:00 at night and Blaine was mentally drained. He hadn't slept much during the car ride over, unlike their previous travels. Instead, he had ranted about the mistreated transsexual woman, trying to push down his anger when Kurt hadn't appeared as angry as he was. Blaine had to consciously remind himself that Kurt didn't mean any harm by it, and considering the circumstances, he was probably more emotional than he normally was.<p>

Kurt pulled into the parking lot of a local pub, giving a strained smile at Blaine. "I thought we could relax for a minute here, maybe loosen up." He paused, searching Blaine's eyes. "Just a drink or two, what do you say?"

Blaine sighed, giving a small smile of his own. "Sure, that sounds good."

The pair made their way inside, the crowded bar filled with locals as they sat down.

"I'll have a vodka tonic," Blaine ordered.

He watched as Kurt ordered a martini, and Blaine winced slightly. He watched the bartender frown, and Blaine had to work to reign in his anger. So Kurt had ordered a drink that wasn't necessarily masculine; why were they judging him?

A couple hours – and drinks – later, Blaine was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. He had spent the time sharing stories about his father with Kurt, which subsequently lead to him drinking slightly more than he was used to.

"All right Blaine, I think it's time we go to the hotel," Kurt prompted, finishing his first and only drink. He entwined his arm in Blaine's, helping him off of the stool.

"Yeah, I'm getting pretty tired," Blaine confessed, rubbing at his eyes. He leaned on Kurt, using the support from the taller boy to keep himself from stumbling.

"Yeah, get your fairy asses out of here before I force them out," a voice shouted from behind them, and Blaine stopped dead in his tracks.

"Just keep moving, Blaine, come on," Kurt all but whispered, trying to nudge Blaine forward.

Instead, Blaine turned around, a fire in his eyes. "Who said that?" he demanded, words slurring together ever so slightly.

A burly man, dwarfing Blaine by a good six inches, made his way over to them. "I did," he growled dangerously. "And I said take your dick-loving faggot asses out of here."

Blaine puffed out his chest slightly, lip curled. "You can't just _make _us leave," he argued, ignoring Kurt's tightening grip around his arm. "We're people just like you! We have just as much right to be here, and if you –" Blaine was cut off with a sickening crack as the man landed a punch along the side of Blaine's face.

"Blaine!" Kurt squeaked out, bracing Blaine as he fell backward. Blaine's hands flew up to his face as Kurt caught him, breathing heavily.

"Son of a bitch," he groaned, blinking to clear his vision. His face felt like it was on fire, and he could feel warm liquid trickling down his cheek.

"Get your bitch out of here," Blaine's attacker ordered to Kurt, disgust written all over his face. "Before I finish what I started."

Kurt grabbed Blaine's arm, half-dragging him out of the building. He opened the passenger door, helping Blaine into the car before piling in himself.

"Blaine, what the _hell _were you thinking?" Kurt shouted, rage seething from his entire being.

Blaine wiped at the blood still making a trail down to his chin, refusing to look Kurt in the eye. "He didn't have a right to do that," he mumbled, brows knitted together. "He can't treat us any differently than everybody else."

"Blaine, what is wrong with you?" Kurt continued to yell, making Blaine flinch. "You were always one to stand up for something, but you didn't put your safety at risk to do so!"

"Yeah, well, maybe it's time for me to have a voice for once!" Blaine shouted for the first time, feeling only slightly guilty at the surprised look on Kurt's face. "Maybe that's what I'm here for – to stand up for us, for people _like _us, even if it means I might get hurt. All I do is run, Kurt. I stand up for you, for others being mistreated, but when do I stand up for _myself_?" Blaine's voice broke and hot tears pricked behind his eyes.

"Blaine, I'm sorry, I just don't want to see you get hurt. I don't understand," Kurt confessed, gently caressing Blaine's injury with his thumb.

Blaine tensed at the contact, eyes darting to the floor of the car. Why couldn't Kurt understand that he needed to start doing things for _himself_? He bit his lip, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. He needed to do things for himself now; if Kurt's trip had taught him anything so far, it was that he had to put himself first now. Before, it had always been protecting Kurt, or supporting his mother, or trying to make his father proud. Now that his father was gone, everything seemed so much more _real_. It was _his _life, and it could go at any moment. He wanted to make Steven proud still, but by making sure he put his needs first for once. Being himself.

"I need to do things for myself right now, Kurt. I'm so sorry..." Blaine started, and he felt his hands start to shake with what he was about to do. "Kurt, I love you so much, I do, but…I think we should take a break."

Blaine held his breath as the car went silent, and he could hear ringing in his ears; whether the ringing was from the silence or the blow he took to his head, he didn't know. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, feeling one salty tear dissolve into the gash on his cheek. He looked up to Kurt, whose wide blue eyes were a mixture of pain and surprise. Blaine hated himself for putting that look on Kurt's face, but he knew he was making the right decision.

"If…if that's what you think we should do," Kurt agreed hoarsely, moving his gaze towards the dashboard. "I know this is a difficult time for you right now, Blaine, and I know you…apparently need some time to yourself, to figure stuff out."

"I can catch a plane back, Kurt. I'm so sorry to do this to you now, of all things, but I don't want to burden you. I'll –"

"No, no I made you a promise, Blaine. I'm going to finish what I started; I still love you, so much, and I still think the rest of this journey is important for you."

Kurt wiped quickly at his tears, and Blaine felt his chest constrict at the sight. For a brief moment, he thought about taking everything back. He wanted to pull Kurt into his arms, kiss him senseless and apologize repeatedly for ever hurting him. But at the same time, Blaine stood his ground; he knew what he was doing. He just wished it didn't feel like his life had fallen apart.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Blaine sat in the hotel room by himself, Kurt locked in the bathroom for his nightly routine. Kurt was taking longer than usual though, and Blaine knew that it was his fault. He couldn't help the deep ache in his chest at knowing he was causing Kurt's pain.<p>

Quietly, Blaine sung under his breath, trying to console himself.

_I think I've already lost you  
>I think you're already gone<br>I think I'm finally scared now  
>You think I'm weak<br>I think you're wrong_

Blaine hugged his legs to his chest, letting his forehead rest against his knees. He was so tired, so drained; he just wanted this entire thing to be over.

_I think you're already leaving  
>Feels like your hand is on the door<br>I thought this place was an empire  
>But now I'm relaxed<br>I can't be sure_

Blaine looked at the bathroom door, knowing Kurt sat on the other side. He tried so hard not to regret his actions earlier, believing that he had made them for all the right reasons. However, now that Blaine knew he was alone, everything suddenly seemed so much harder.

_But I think you're so mean  
>I think we should try<br>I think I could need  
>This in my life<br>I think I'm just scared  
>I think too much<em>

_I know it's wrong  
>It's a problem I'm dealing<em>

_If you're gone  
>Maybe it's time to come home<em>

Blaine kept watching the door, hoping desperately that Kurt would come out. He didn't.

_There's an awful lot of breathing room  
>But I can hardly move<br>If you're gone  
>Baby you need to come home<em>

Blaine laid flat on the bed now, rolling over and closing his eyes. Kurt wasn't coming out any time soon, and Blaine figured he'd handle what he could control at this point. That was his exhaustion.

He couldn't control his heartache.

_There's a little bit of something me  
>In everything in you <em>

* * *

><p>"<em>Anderson!" Blaine heard the call and turned around, letting go of Ethan's hand. The dance had just ended, and they were waiting for Ethan's dad to pick them up.<em>

_Three boys walked toward the steps they were standing on; Blaine recognized Nick Henderson, Luke and Josh from the last time they had a confrontation. He had told his mom that they were suspended and it was okay for him to go to school again, but it had been a lie. Blaine didn't want to make anything into a bigger deal than it was, wishing to continue school like a normal kid._

_Apparently, it just wasn't safe here._

"_Please, just leave us alone," Blaine begged, shooting a glance at Ethan. The other boy was shaking like a leaf behind Blaine, frozen on the spot. Blaine felt a surge of protectiveness wash through him – he couldn't let them get to Ethan like they had gotten him before. Ethan didn't deserve that._

"_Why would we leave you alone when you won't leave _us _alone?" Josh asked, continuing their advance on the couple._

_Blaine took a step backward, tugging on Ethan's suit jacket. "Let's go," he whispered, turning around. Unfortunately he turned right into Luke, who had circled them without notice. Blaine collided into him and Luke wasted no time grabbing Blaine by the jacket. He spun Blaine around, pinning his arms behind his back._

"_I don't know why you fags can't learn your lesson," Nick taunted, stepping up to Blaine._

_Ethan whimpered as Josh grabbed him, but Blaine couldn't see him anymore. "Leave him alone, please. Just let him go, he didn't do anything."_

"_Shut the fuck up, Anderson!" Nick ordered, slamming his fist into Blaine's stomach. Blaine grunted and tried to double over, but Luke had him in such a tight grip. He tried to catch his breath as Nick looked him up and down, disgust shining in his dark eyes. "Jesus, you really get on my nerves."_

"_Ethan's dad is going to be here any minute," Blaine groaned, voice raspy from the lack of air. He looked up at Nick desperately. "Just let us go, you're going to get caught."_

_Nick snorted, gripping Blaine's chin tightly. Blaine shivered; the look in Nick's eyes was manic, and Blaine wanted nothing more than to run away. "Then we'll just have to make this quick, won't we?" Nick landed a blow to Blaine's jaw, snapping the smaller boy's head back. Blaine could hear Ethan struggling as Josh started to lay into him, but Blaine couldn't break away from his tormenters to save him. He tried to absorb the countless punches that assaulted his abdomen, his shoulders becoming sore from trying to pull against their binds. _

_Suddenly, Luke let go of Blaine's arms but pulled on the back of his collar, sending Blaine cascading down the stone stairs. Blaine heard a sickening crack as his head collided with a step, black spots forming in front of his eyes. He tumbled down to the bottom of the steps and lay still for a moment, blinking against the blurred vision. Blaine panted as he tried to lift himself up, scrambling along the ground but not getting anywhere. Blaine couldn't move, however, when a searing pain shot through his right arm; it must have been broken during the fall. He was disoriented, barely able to tell up from down as his feet pathetically shuffled to get away from whoever was coming toward him. Blaine moaned, face chaffing along the cement below him._

_A shoe appeared on Blaine's chest, but he couldn't see it. He felt it press into his ribcage and gasped at the pressure. Blaine's vision was tripled and dark, and blood was starting to run into his eyes. His entire body was on fire, and he couldn't hear Ethan anymore. His heart constricted in his chest; Ethan was hurt, and Blaine couldn't gather his surroundings enough to help him._

"_Maybe this time you'll be more willing to listen, Anderson," Nick growled. His shoe then connected with Blaine's temple, and Blaine succumbed to unconsciousness._

_When Blaine awoke, he was lying against the concrete, shivers running down his spine as wind washed over him. He tried to clear his vision, but moving his head only made his surroundings blur more. There was a stabbing pain in his temple and his arm, a dull ache throughout the rest of his body._

"_Blaine?" the broken voice seized Blaine's chest. He wanted to desperately to move, but he couldn't._

"_Ethan," Blaine sobbed, wishing he could comfort his friend. Blaine couldn't even see him, didn't know if he was okay – all Blaine knew was that the voice was coming from further up the steps._

"_Oh God, Blaine, it hurts," Ethan moaned, and Blaine shut his eyes._

"_Ethan. Ethan." All Blaine could do was repeat his date's name, trying to break up the silence and the ringing in his ears. He could see his arm laid out in front of him, twisted at an unnatural angle, and it made his stomach lurch. It had to be broken._

"_Blaine, are we going to die?"_

_Blaine drew a ragged breath, feeling a salty tear leak into his mouth. "No, Ethan, we're going to be okay. It's going to be okay."_

_Suddenly, a loud, shrill voice cried from the top of the stairs. "Oh my God! Oh my God, what happened?"_

_Just as Blaine tried to block out the shrill voice, wanting to let himself succumb to unconsciousness, more voices joined in._

"_What's going on, are they okay?"_

"_Are those the gay kids?"_

"_Who did this, what's going on? Are they alive?"_

_Blaine saw a figure kneel next to him. "It's Blaine Anderson and Ethan Thompson," the voice informed, a little too loud for Blaine's liking. "Someone call 911!"_

_As the group behind them shuffled around, probably trying to figure out just _who _was going to call, the man beside Blaine felt for a pulse. "Hey, Blaine, stay with me okay? Help's on the way, you're going to be fine."_

_Blaine was always good at reading fear in peoples' voices, even when they tried to stay calm._

_Eventually, the pain was too much for Blaine, and everything went black just as sirens could be heard in the distance._

_The next thing Blaine knew, he had woken up in the hospital. The doctors had to inform him that he had been brought to the ER three days earlier – Ethan had been brought with him, but had woken up the day before. Blaine had a broken arm and fractured wrist, a concussion, several deep lesions on his head that had to be stitched up, two broken ribs and severe bruising along his entire body._

_His mother later told Blaine that Ethan's family had made him move, hoping that once they left no one could "corrupt" their son again._

* * *

><p>Blaine awoke with a start, feeling the raging headache in his temples as he looked around the hotel room. It took him a moment to grasp where he was and what had happened the night before, his mind a foggy mess.<p>

His heart constricted as he recalled Kurt's tear-filled gaze, the hurt yet understanding in his icy eyes when Blaine had told him they needed a break. Blaine felt trapped and so _alone _at the prospect of being separated from Kurt, but he knew it had to be done. Just for now, until he could put the little pieces of his life back together. It wasn't fair to Kurt if Blaine spent all of his energy resenting Kurt for his optimism or protectiveness. He used to cherish that part about him, and Blaine still did, but he knew the feeling wouldn't return until after his life was right-side up again.

Kurt padded out of the bathroom, hair still dripping and a damp towel around his waist. He rummaged through his suitcase, only stopping when he noticed Blaine staring at him. Kurt looked to him, face impassive before a small, compassionate smile crept across his features. "Morning," he greeted quietly, throwing a t-shirt and pair of jeans over his shoulder. "We're going to leave here in about an hour, if you'd like to shower."

Blaine's mouth felt dry, and he couldn't make his mouth form a response. Instead he gave a quick nod, watching Kurt's retreating form as he went to dress. How could Kurt be so calm, so supportive, when Blaine had been so selfish?

Blaine had never met a better person in his life.

Kurt was humming to the song on the radio as he drove; Blaine wasn't familiar with the melody, but then again, he was a bit preoccupied at the moment. He knew they were only ten hours away from Westerville, and the knot in his stomach was growing with each passing mile. He was so afraid that once they got home, his father's death would finally hit him.

Kurt's voice rang out with such clarity, and Blaine closed his eyes, letting the music soothe him. He tried to relax, stopping his mind from going into overload. They would get home in ten hours. Which meant that the funeral would be in twenty-four hours. So if he got back and unpacked right away, he would be able to…

_Stop it_, Blaine chided himself, shifting in his seat. _You decided that you would relax on this trip, let Kurt take care of you…_

Kurt. Blaine felt the guilt build up again – why should Kurt continue to take care of him if he had decided to take a break?

_Because Kurt is an amazing human being_.

Blaine wasn't used to being taken care of. He was always the one protecting others – taking care of his mom after the divorce, protecting Kurt from Karofsky and the bullying at McKinley, trying to defend himself against his own tormenters growing up, at least until he asked to transfer to Dalton. Blaine didn't want to worry his parents, instead learning at an early age how to take care of himself.

Even after the Sadie Hawkins dance, Blaine tried to handle everything on his own; his father, however, had other ideas.

"_Do you realize what your son – and those other boys – have done?" Steven Anderson demanded, red in the face. Blaine shrunk back behind him, appearing small and more vulnerable with his bruised and cut face, arm in a sling. He had been in the hospital for almost a week now, and he was just being let out._

_He watched as Carl Henderson shook his head, only the smallest hint of regret in his face. "Mr. Anderson, please. It was just a prank, it happens all the time. It got a little out of hand – "_

"_A _little _out of hand?" Steven's fist slammed on the desk in front of him and Blaine jumped, eyes searching wildly for any nurses that would run in at the disturbance. "Your son took part in critically injuring _my _son! Not only my son, but another human being, who had every right to enjoy the night like everyone else!"_

"_Mr. Anderson, you can't really say that they had the same privilege as others," Carl persuaded, glancing at Blaine with contempt._

_Steven blanched, lip curling. "I sure as hell _can _say that. Your son landed mine in the _hospital_, for no other reason than that he's afraid of someone who's different. And you know what_? You're _to blame for that."_

"_Let's not get carried away here, Steven – "_

"_You do not get to call me that. It's Mr. Anderson to you."_

"_Mr. Anderson, I'm sure my son didn't mean for it to go as far as it did." Carl swallowed nervously, shifting his weight uncomfortably between his feet._

"_The point is that your son should not have done anything in the first place!" Steven bellowed, and Blaine took a few steps back. He couldn't remember ever seeing his father so upset. He was usually so collected and respectful; this was an entirely different person to Blaine._

"_He didn't – I mean, I'm sure it wasn't his idea. Peer pressure at this age, you know. They just got carried away," Carl stammered._

_Steven's eyes narrowed, stepping closer to Carl. "In all of my life, even in my time in the Army, I have never met someone so deplorable," he growled, and Blaine shuddered from the darkness in those words. "I will see to it that you and your son get the maximum sentence for what you have done to my family. Mark my words, Carl; this is so far from over."_

_Steven took Blaine by the arm, marching them out of the hospital. All the while, Blaine could hear his father muttering under his breath, still fuming from the encounter with Mr. Henderson._

"_No one is getting away with hurting my son," Steven muttered to himself, and Blaine wasn't sure if he should feel comforted or terrified. He decided on feeling guilty, as he was the one leaving the hospital after the dance his father told him _not _to go to._

_Blaine transferred to Dalton the next week._

Blaine watched as the scenery rolled by, absent-mindedly rubbing his hands on his jeans. That had been the last time he had really asked for help; everything else he felt like he could handle on his own.

Well, everything up until now.

Blaine always had the mentality that asking for help was a weakness – for himself. If anyone else would ask for _his _help, he was more than willing to offer his assistance. He didn't know why he held himself to a different standard than everyone else, maybe because he had such an intense fear of disappointing others and being alone, but he never wanted to ask for help. Blaine knew when things were too much to handle alone, though. Bigger than himself. Being beaten into hospitalization was one of them.

The death of his father was another.

"Do you want to stop for the night?"

Kurt's voice snapped Blaine out of his reverie. "What was that?"

Kurt glanced at Blaine out of the corner of his eye, apparently trying to gauge whether or not Blaine was in a positive state of mind. "Do you want to stop for the night, or drive straight through?"

Blaine licked his lips. It was only 7:30pm. "Where are we right now?"

"Just outside of Indianapolis."

Blaine wasn't used to the tone of voice Kurt was using – there was something stiff about it, closed off. "We only have about three hours left then, right? We can…we can keep going."

"Okay."

A few moments of silence passed before Blaine spoke up again. "Do you want me to drive?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, I'm all right. Our deal still stands the same, Blaine."

Blaine shifted down in his seat, not wanting to say any more. It was going to be a long three hours. He didn't even want to pay attention as Kurt turned up the radio, singing to the first song that came on.

_I don't know where I crossed the line  
>Was it something I said or didn't say this time?<br>And I don't know if it's me or you  
>But I can see the skies are changing<br>No longer shades of blue  
>I don't know which way it's gonna go<em>

Blaine rolled his eyes, refusing to look at Kurt. There was no way this was a coincidence, but then again, he knew Kurt couldn't control the radio.

He wouldn't be surprised if Kurt had requested the station to play this song before they left, though.

_It's going to be a rainy day  
>But I can see the skies are changing<br>We pray for sunny weather  
>But that won't stop the rain<em>

Blaine sniffed, trying not to let the song get to him, but he already felt so damn guilty. He hoped Kurt didn't hear him.

_You're feeling like you've got no place to run  
>I can be your shelter 'til it's done<br>We can make this last forever  
>So please don't stop the rain<em>

Blaine knew that Kurt was waiting for him to join, but he refused to sing. He just wouldn't, he couldn't. Not now, not about this.

_Let it fall, let it fall, let it fall  
>Please don't stop the rain<br>Let it fall, let it fall, let it fall  
>Please don't stop the rain<em>

* * *

><p>Pulling up to his house, Blaine felt the dread beginning to seep through his pores. He felt his chest turn to ice as he looked at all of the cars along the curb. Even in the dark, he could tell the difference between his relatives' different vehicles. He may not have seen them in years, but their cars remained the same.<p>

The reality was beginning to settle in, and Blaine was beginning to panic.

"Hey, you okay?" Kurt asked softly, covering Blaine's hand with his own.

His voice sounded far away, muffled even, to Blaine. He stared at the porch light on his childhood home; a light that was usually so inviting now seemed to mock him as he returned for the first time in several years. Having an apartment with Kurt in California, there had been no _need _to come home until now. And now that he had been absent for so long, Blaine regretted not coming home to visit until they needed him most.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine rushed. "Yeah, I'm good. Let's, ah, let's go inside."

He left the car with heavy legs, grabbing his duffel bag from the back seat. Closing the car door, the noise seemed to reverberate throughout the neighborhood, and Blaine cringed. He wasn't sure if he wanted his family to know about their presence yet. Especially knowing that some of them weren't so _accepting _of his relationship with Kurt.

Well, it wasn't really the relationship that they weren't fond of.

"No time like the present," Kurt sighed, placing a firm hand on Blaine's waist.

Blaine leaned into Kurt's grip slightly, grateful for the support despite their current situation. He knew he couldn't go through his by himself; he didn't know why he had even suggested that during their argument.

He fumbled with the keys, dropping his and Kurt's bags just inside the doorway. The house was dark, but a small light illuminated the next room.

Blaine motioned for Kurt to follow him into the living room. The three people on the couch looked up at them as they entered, and the woman – with wild curls, much like Blaine's and his mother's – stood to greet them.

"Blaine, honey." Her voice was soft and velvety as she took Blaine into her arms. Kurt stood by respectfully as Blaine reunited with his family. His aunt Jenice, the hugger, and her husband, Robert, were warm and inviting.

"What happened to your face, Blaine?" Robert questioned, motioning toward the cut on Blaine's cheek.

"I, um, it's a long story," Blaine answered lamely, hoping they wouldn't press the issue.

Luckily they didn't – just exchanged formalities in the dark room, no one wanting to bring up the reason they were all there. During the conversations, Kurt learned that Jenice and Robert were related through Blaine's mother.

The other man on the couch, with slicked-back black hair and a stern expression, was not.

"Uncle Dan," Blaine greeted, uncertainty clouding his voice. He hadn't seen this man since the Thanksgiving after transferring to Dalton, and it wasn't a memory he liked to dwell on.

_Blaine knew it had to be done. He had just transferred to a new school; everything was starting fresh. It was only right, then, to include his entire family in the matter. He begged his mom to have his dad and uncle over for Thanksgiving this year; the first time since he was eight years old. He stood up nervously at the dinner table, chair scraping against the wooden floors. "I'm gay."_

_The words echoed off the walls, throughout the hallways of the house. Blaine thought for sure they were in surround sound, the way they broke the silence._

"_Blaine, dear, have a seat," Molly ushered, placing a hand on her son's arm. "We can talk about this later."_

_Dan Anderson stared at Blaine with an unreadable expression. "Is this – is this why he transferred to that private school?"_

_Steven shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yes, well, Blaine was having some problems at his school with the other kids. We figured we'd take care of that and get him a proper education at the same – "_

"_Your son is gay, Steven."_

_Blaine watched his father bristle. "Yes, I am aware of that."_

_Dan's expression turned hard, disapproving. "What did you do wrong?"_

_Steven sputtered, setting down his wine. "Excuse me?"_

_Blaine felt as though he wasn't even present at the dinner table anymore, as if he were watching some strange television show as his father and uncle exchanged words._

"_It's not _natural_, that's for sure," Dan sneered, finally tearing his eyes away from Blaine to rest on his brother. "The Anderson name is tainted now."_

"_It is not _tainted_," Steven growled, jabbing a finger into Dan's chest. "Yes, we weren't expecting this to happen, but Blaine is the same boy he has always been!"_

We weren't expecting this to happen_. The words cut through Blaine like a machete – he had disappointed his father._

"_He's most certainly not the same!" Dan exclaimed, voice rising. "If you knew what was good for this family you would get him some help, and soon."_

"_He doesn't need help, Daniel," Molly argued from Blaine's side, green eyes hardening._

"_Dan, I think it's best if you leave now," Steven ground out. Blaine could see the regret in his father's eyes; Steven and Dan were close, and now, because of Blaine, that was ruined._

_Dan looked as if he had been physically slapped in the face. "You're going to send me away for that?"_

_Steven stared at his brother for what seemed like hours; just when Blaine thought his dad would change his mind and allow Dan to stay, he got up from the table and opened the door._

"_Please." That was all he said, and that had been enough._

Steven and his brother hadn't spoken again since that night, and it was clear now that Dan resented Blaine for that.

Dan stood up from the couch, walking toward Blaine. Blaine expected some kind of interaction, or at least an exchange of words, but Dan walked right past him, not even making eye contact as he went up the staircase.

Blaine watched his retreating form, feeling nausea rise in his stomach; Dan hadn't spoken to Steven, and now he would never get the chance.

Jenice looked at Blaine, a sad, empathetic gaze, and Blaine knew this was going to be so much harder than he thought.

* * *

><p>At 9:00am the next morning, the entire Anderson family was gathering in the kitchen. Kurt was making conversation with Jenice and Robert in the far corner of the room. That was something Blaine had always loved about his boyfrie – Kurt – his ability to ease into any situation and just make it more manageable. More serene. Blaine wasn't sure <em>how <em>he did it, but he was sure as hell thankful for that skill.

Blaine sat at the table in silence, listening to the bustle around him and the static-filled kitchen radio, currently playing the newest Bruno Mars song Blaine was unfamiliar with.

"Blaine Anderson." A voice and subsequent slap on the shoulder made Blaine jump up from his plate of eggs as a man with longer, dark hair and matching goatee sat down next to him.

Blaine smiled, setting his fork down. "Justin," he sighed, grasping the young man's hand. "I'm glad you could make it."

Justin grinned, a wide smile with gleaming teeth. "Of course. I didn't get many chances to hang out with Uncle Steven, but I know he was a good guy." The smile fell slightly, a look of remorse flashing across his face. "I'm very sorry for you, Blaine. I know I haven't seen you since our middle school years, but I always considered you more like a brother to me."

"Well, growing up in different states will do that to you," Blaine joked half-heartedly. "But yes, I agree. It means a lot that you were able to come out here."

"How have you been? I heard about…well, I've heard quite a few different things, actually. But none of them really matter now."

Blaine let out a small sigh of relief. It was refreshing not to be pressured into talking about his past from a family member. This moment was bigger than all of them, after all. "I'm okay, man. I mean…I don't think it's totally sunk in yet, you know? I haven't seen him since the summer before sophomore year of college, and now I won't be able to see him again? It's such a…an isolating feeling."

Justin nodded, eyes trained on the tiled floor. "Yeah, I understand. I know you guys had your differences and all, but I know he really cared about you, Blaine." His cousin gave a reassuring smile. "I know he was proud of you, for doing what you loved and cared about."

Blaine's eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"Last year, I visited with my parents because they decided they missed your mom too much to have Thanksgiving without her. Anyway, we started discussing a bunch of different things, and you were brought up. Uncle Steven was allowed home for the weekend, the hospital let him have Thanksgiving at home, but he couldn't stop talking about you."

Blaine started, choking on his coffee. This was new information; he hadn't seen his father in years and only spoken briefly on the phone a few times. "He couldn't?"

"Nope. He kept saying how proud he was of you, for getting into UCLA and how you're going to end up graduating with honors and everything. He pulled out a CD with a medley of different songs from your college a capella group and – what was the name of your high school club? – the Warblers! Do you remember them?"

"Yeah, I remember," Blaine said shakily.

"He told me that you had a boyfriend," Justin continued, oblivious to the shock that he was inducing on Blaine. Justin looked to Kurt, still in the corner of the kitchen. "He seems really nice."

Blaine drew in a deep breath; his father _never _spoke about his relationship with Kurt unless it was brought up by someone else. "Yeah, he's…he's incredible."

Blaine felt his eyes begin to sting with unshed tears; his father was _proud _of him.

The radio seemed to sound a little clearer to him, then, as it played the next song.

_The lights go out and I can't be saved  
>Tides that I tried to swim against<br>Have brought me down upon my knees  
>Oh I beg, I beg and pled singing<em>

_Come out of things unsaid  
>Shoot an apple off my head<br>And a trouble that can't be named  
>A tiger's waiting to be tamed, singing<em>

"You are," Blaine sang along quietly, under his breath. He heard the small tremor in his voice but ignored it, instead choosing to focus on how good it felt to sing again. Singing was always his way of coping with such strong emotions, and Blaine wondered why he had lost it to such a degree. "You are."

_Confusion never stops  
>Closing walls and ticking clocks<br>Gonna come back and take you home  
>I could not stop that you now know singing<em>

_Come out upon my seas  
>Cursed missed opportunities<br>Am I a part of the cure?_

"Or am I part of the disease?" Blaine half sung, half wondered aloud, playing with the remaining food on his plate.

_You are  
>You are<em>

_And nothing else compares_

* * *

><p>Blaine had been making small conversation with Kurt and another one of his cousins when Molly returned from the funeral home. Hearing the click of her heels against the floor, Blaine immediately knew it was her. Her petite frame slid in the opening, looking around the house, no doubt searching for her son. Blaine made his way through the crowd, Kurt trailing not far behind.<p>

"Mom." Blaine looked at Molly for a moment, his mother softly brushing a stray curl away from his face.

"Oh Blaine," she sighed, wrapping her small arms around him. Blaine melted in her embrace, squeezing his eyes shut as the tears he didn't know he was holding back fell down. He latched onto her dress, pressing his face into her shoulder. He could feel a small spot where his tears were seeping through her dress, but neither of them seemed to care.

After a few minutes, Blaine pulled back, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Molly kept her hand on his shoulder. "Blaine, I'm so glad you're here." Her voice was soft and melodious, calming Blaine instantly like it had so many times before. "Did you get in last night?"

"Yeah, a little after 10:00."

"I'm glad you're here safe. We had the viewing yesterday, I'm so sorry you didn't make that in time. But what's important now is that you're here." She turned, tucking her hair behind her ears and smiling at Kurt. "And Kurt, thank you so much for coming. It means a lot that you were able to make it."

Kurt returned the smile, taking Molly's hand in both of his. "I wouldn't be anywhere else. I am so sorry for your loss."

Kurt's voice reminded Blaine so much of his mother's. Compassionate and understanding.

"Well I have to get a few more things ready for tomorrow. Your Uncle Robert won't let me two feet out of his sight before he tries to find me again," she laughed. "He thinks I can't handle myself under this kind of pressure." The words were light, but Blaine could see the love and worry in her eyes. "Blaine, why don't you look through my room? I brought most of your father's belongings up there, if you could go through everything and pick out which things we should use tomorrow."

"Sure." Blaine tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible, but he knew that this would be setting himself up for another emotional wave.

Molly kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Blaine. I love you so much."

Blaine allowed the warmth of the words to calm him. They had never meant more to him than they did at this moment. "I love you too."

Blaine entered his mother's room with Kurt; normally that scenario would sound horrific to Blaine, but the circumstances allowed little room for mirth. He saw the boxes stacked on top of her bed, all labeled "Steven."

"Well, let's get to it then," Blaine sighed, unpacking the first box.

Kurt rubbed Blaine's arm affectionately before looking through a box of his own. "What exactly are we looking for?"

Blaine shrugged, looking at old photographs. "Anything that looks like it could have importance, I guess. If you think it might, just ask me and I'll decide if we should keep it out. Pictures, belongings…"

"What about this?"

Kurt held up a navy and gold striped tie that looked worn beyond belief; the edges were fraying and the bottom had a gray tint to it, as if it had been dipped in some sort of broth. Blaine would recognize that tie anywhere.

"That's…that's the tie I bought my dad, my sophomore year of high school. It was right after we found out about the cancer," he said softly, voice rough.

Kurt held the garment out to Blaine carefully, as if he were afraid it would deteriorate more than it already had. Blaine took it gently in his own hands, rubbing his thumb over the edge.

"He always wore this," Blaine whispered to himself.

"_Happy birthday, dad," Blaine announced happily, handing his father a box with a giant silver bow on top._

_Steven smiled from his recliner; he barely left that spot anymore. The doctors were always reminding him to rest now. "Oh, but my birthday's not until tomorrow, son."_

_Blaine flattened down his hair – he could feel the gel coming loose. "Yes, well, I know you have your…radiation tomorrow," he explained, throat tightening over the word 'radiation.' He still wasn't used to the idea that his father – his invincible father – was sick. "So I figured I'd give this to you now so you have time to enjoy it."_

_Steven nodded, tugging at the bow surrounding the box. Blaine grinned; he was so glad he chose the silver bow to go with the maroon wrapping paper. It fit perfectly._

_Steven pulled the tie from the case, holding it up in front of him. "Blaine, this is wonderful," he admired._

_Blaine felt a surge of pride rush through him; his father always had trouble voicing his emotions, so for him to use the term 'wonderful'…Blaine felt himself having to push back tears._

"_I thought it would go well with what you usually wear; all of the grays and blues," Blaine rushed, stumbling over his words in excitement._

_Steven looked up at Blaine, dark eyes full of gratitude. Blaine's breath hitched at the amount of love in the gaze. "Thank you, Blaine." Steven grabbed a hold of Blaine's hand in thanks._

_He wore the tie to the hospital the next day._

"Kurt," Blaine breathed, looking up at Kurt with shining eyes. "Kurt, I'm so sorry."

Kurt shook his head. "I don't understand; what are you sorry for?" he asked gently, taking a step forward.

"For everything. For being such a jerk to you, for saying we needed a break. I was wrong, so wrong." Blaine's voice began to tremble, and he wiped at his face with his sleeve. "I just didn't know what was going on, I felt so many things, and I just…I took it out on you."

Kurt stood by, listening to Blaine patiently. His eyebrows were knotted and face fallen as Blaine continued.

"I don't deserve you, Kurt. After all we've been through together, I just chose to break us up for no reason other than the fact that I had too many emotions at once. I was foolish to think that I could handle it on my own, without your help. You're my rock, Kurt. I _need _you."

"Oh sweetheart." Kurt closed the gap between them and pulled Blaine into his arms. He allowed Blaine to press his face into his shoulder, rubbing soft circles on Blaine's back. "It's okay, I promise. It's okay. I've been waiting for you to come back to me." Kurt swallowed back his own tears as Blaine trembled underneath him. "I understood that you needed your space for a while, and I was always here for you when you decided to change your mind." There was a short pause, and Kurt chuckled mirthlessly. "Honestly, I'm surprised you made it this long."

Blaine huffed into Kurt's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I love you so much. I tried to justify it by saying I was going to do things for myself now. Not everyone else, but…there's no _me_ without you."

"I know exactly what you mean, Blaine. And it's true; sometimes I wish you _would _do more things for yourself. You take on so much, Blaine, and you put everyone else first. You may not know this, but I see when it wears you down. You need to do things for _yourself _sometimes."

"My family needs me right now, Kurt. I need to be strong for them, especially Mom." Blaine never understood how to _not _be strong for others; he had always been so giving, not expecting anything in return. He would never see that as such a positive attribute as many others did, but allowing others to see his weaknesses was not something Blaine was accustomed to. That's why he had so many friends at Dalton, after all – he had become a master at conforming himself to what others needed him to be, always there for everyone else, never himself.

The vibrations of Blaine's voice on Kurt's neck made him shiver. "I know, but it's okay to show that you're hurting too. Even if it's just to me."

"I never thought so much about how _much _Dad really loved me. It was hard to remember that, what with him being so distant for most of my life. But…he really, truly, loved me. I wish I knew that when he was still…alive."

Kurt pulled back, sitting himself and Blaine down on the ottoman behind them. "You _did _know that, Blaine. You just didn't constantly think about it." He smiled sadly, wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist.

_Live in my house  
>I'll be your shelter.<em>

Blaine laid his head on Kurt's shoulder, letting the slow melody take over his entire being.

_Just pay me back  
>With one thousand kisses.<br>Be my lover  
>And I'll cover you, yeah.<em>

"_Blaine, can you come help me please?" Steven called from the garage, and Blaine bounded into the doorway._

"_Yeah, Dad?"_

"_What did I tell you about saying 'yeah'?" Steven scolded, but his eyes weren't hard._

"Yes, _Dad?" Blaine corrected with just a tiny bit of attitude._

_The corner of Steven's mouth turned upward, but Blaine didn't catch it. "Want to help me try and fix up the old Camaro?"_

"_Sure," Blaine agreed, even though he felt deflated; he really thought his father had come to terms with him being gay._

_Open your door  
>I'll be your tenant.<br>Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet._

_A few hours later, Steven rolled out from underneath the car. "I think that's good for today."_

_Blaine nodded, taking a look at their work. "Yeah, we made good headway on it."_

_Steven held a hand over Blaine and paused for only a moment before ruffling Blaine's hair. "Yeah, we did. Maybe we can start again next weekend."_

_Blaine bit his lip. "Yeah, I…I guess that would be good." He turned and left the garage, feeling the emptiness at his father not accepting his sexuality._

_Steven watched his son leave the room, already thinking of the next week. He wanted to spend as much time with Blaine as possible now._

_He wondered when he would tell Blaine about the cancer._

_But sweet kisses I've got to spare  
>I'll be there, and I'll cover you, oh.<br>I think they meant it  
>When they said you can't buy love.<br>Now I know you can rent it  
>A new lease you are, my love,<br>On life._

Blaine entwined his fingers with Kurt's, a stray tear trailing down his nose. "All my life," he joined Kurt's melody sadly. He missed this, singing with Kurt.

_I've longed to discover  
>Something as true as this is, yeah.<em>

"_Blaine, son, can you take a seat for me?" Steven asked, shuffling his feet._

_Blaine started slightly; his father was never nervous. "Sure." He sat down on the couch, clasping his hands in his lap._

"_Blaine, I have something to tell you. I don't want you to get upset, okay? I need you to be strong, be a real man for this."_

_Blaine felt his heart in his throat. Something was wrong – terribly wrong. "Okay."_

_Steven took a long, drawn-out breath, watching Blaine carefully. "I have cancer, Blaine."_

"So, with a thousand sweet kisses," Blaine continued repeatedly, tightening his grip on Kurt. "I'll cover you."

_If you're cold and you're lonely.  
>You've got one nickel only.<br>When you're worn out and tired.  
>When you're heart has expired.<em>

"Oh, lover, I'll cover you," Blaine sang, knowing this song was more than just a song to them. It was a promise.

_Oh lover  
>I'll cover you.<em>

"Five hundred, twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes," Blaine whispered, breathing in deeply to take in Kurt's scent. "Five hundred, twenty-five thousand seasons of love."

_I'll cover you, oh._

Kurt pressed a firm kiss to Blaine's temple after the song had ended, and Blaine cuddled closer to his boyfriend.

They would make it through this together.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** A Second Heart  
><strong>Author:<strong> kaytee412  
><strong>Artist: <strong>pawndilene  
><strong>Beta:<strong> nowheretogo26  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Violence, minor character death, slight homophobia  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>20,005  
><strong>Summary:<strong> When Blaine's father dies unexpectedly, he has to pick up the pieces. For Blaine, it's a journey of love, hope, and self-discovery.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Anything through Season 2 is fair game  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was a challenge and a half for me, but I'm so proud of how it turned out. I just want to give a special thank you to my beta and soul mate, Nikki (nowheretogo26). She also made the gorgeous fanmix cover for this piece. Also, my sweet and encouraging artist Elena (pawndilene) created some absolutely _flawless_ illustrations for the story. I am naming Elena the hero of this fic! Shout outs to my cheerleaders and mentors Nicole (blue_icy_rose) and Star (star55) and the ladies who were always there to support and bounce around ideas with me: bluehippos, flyblckbirdfly, and ninja_a. Without this incredible group, I have no idea where I would be (even though I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be finished)

* * *

><p>They had found quite a few different items of Steven Anderson's to bring to the funeral: the tie, a few of his favorite books (mostly Tom Clancy novels), a pair of working boots that he would always wear when fixing up the Camaro, and a gray sport coat that made an appearance at every special occasion. Blaine also packed a black stuffed bear that he had gotten as a gift from his father when they went to the Columbus zoo, Steven's pair of reading glasses, and his favorite leather-banded watch.<p>

All of the belongings went into the back of Blaine's car; he would bring them over to the funeral home tomorrow. Right now, he was exhausted and couldn't think about doing anything else other than sleeping.

Kurt had gone to the store to pick up a few things for Molly; they were having corned beef hash tonight, but they had been short a few ingredients. Blaine had been appointed the task, but Kurt offered to go instead.

Blaine wondered, not for the first time, if Kurt was mind reader. It was that or Blaine was just very transparent when it came to his feelings.

Molly sat down next to Blaine at the kitchen table while the rest of the family bustled around them. "How are you holding up, kiddo?"

Blaine shrugged, trying to remember what Kurt had told him earlier. "I'm okay, I guess. I just…" he sighed, turning to his mom. "I wish I had spent more time with him."

"You went away for school; no one can blame you for that."

"Yes, but I could have come home more often. Winter breaks, spring breaks. Hell, I only came back my first summer, and even then I wasn't around very much for either you or dad."

"It would have been financially improbable for you to come home that often, Blaine. You know that." Molly's green eyes searched Blaine's, trying to find some sort of forgiveness for himself. "No one knew this would happen, not so soon. And besides," she leaned over, kissing Blaine on the cheek, "he wouldn't want you to blame yourself for anything. Your father…I know we had our differences, and I may not have supported everything he did or his parenting style, but your father loved you very much. He wouldn't want you feeling guilty."

Blaine nodded, gripping the edge of the table. "Yeah, I know." He gave a forced smile, standing up suddenly. "I should get the eulogy ready for tomorrow…I haven't worked on it yet, and I'll be too tired to do it soon. Thanks mom."

"I love you, honey."

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>Blaine slammed his head against the desk, crinkling the paper in his hand and tossing it across the room. He let out a string of curses and unintelligible noises, pretty sure that if he didn't go to bed soon, he was going to keel over whether he wanted to or not.<p>

A knock on the door startled Blaine and he turned his head, though he didn't lift it off of the desk. "Come in," he called out, though it sounded more like a whine.

Kurt poked his head in slowly, blue eyes appearing around the edge of the door. "Hey," he greeted softly, looking around the room at the strewn crumples of paper.

Blaine sighed, lifting his head into his hands. "Hey yourself."

Kurt walked in and shut the door gently, shoving his hands in his pockets. Blaine wondered how he could fit his hands in those jeans when they were so impossibly _tight_. Not that he would complain. "Your mom told me I could find you up here."

"Yeah," Blaine started, rubbing at his left eye. "Yeah, I was just working on the eulogy for tomorrow, except I'm not really getting anywhere. As you can see." He motioned toward all of the debris in the room. "I'm starting to feel like I'll never get this done."

Kurt took the chair next to Blaine looking at some of the notes across the desk. He smiled. "These are really cute, Blaine."

Blaine snorted. "Yeah, but I don't necessarily want cute. I'm having a hard time putting everything I want to say into words."

Kurt pursed his lips, scooting the paper he was reading back onto the desktop. "Well, maybe you don't have to."

Blaine arched an eyebrow. "I don't understand."

"Maybe you could just say what comes to you. I don't know…just say what you think needs to be said."

"You're saying I should…wing my father's eulogy?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all." Kurt sat forward a little, looking up at Blaine. "I'm saying you should say what you feel. Not what everyone expects you to say."

"I don't want to disappoint anyone," Blaine admitted, biting his lip. "Especially now that I feel the way I do. About him, about our relationship. It's so different than before we started this whole trip, and I know it has a lot to do with you, Kurt. And I thank you for that."

Kurt grinned. "Of course, Blaine. That's exactly what I was hoping for, actually. But don't feel pressured to give everyone what they want to hear. He was _your _dad, Blaine. He deserves to have his memory honored with honesty."

Blaine stifled a yawn, straightening in his chair. "Yeah, you're right…maybe I'll do that, then."

"And now, I think we should call it a night. You look a wreck." Kurt motioned to Blaine's sunken eyes and tousled hair.

Blaine pretended to be offended, placing a hand over his heart. "Excuse me, I happen to think I look great right now. Very distressed-chic."

"Whatever you say, my love," Kurt laughed, taking Blaine's hand and helping him up. "Let's get you to bed; we'll see how _distressed-chic_ you look in the morning."

Blaine climbed on the bed and allowed Kurt to remove his shoes. "What about you?" he asked sleepily, his eyes already beginning to close.

"Oh I'm joining you," Kurt reassured, slipping out of his jeans and throwing on an old t-shirt from his duffel bag. "I can't have you getting more beauty rest than me."

Blaine felt the bed dip as Kurt climbed in next to him; pale arms snaked around Blaine's middle, and he pulled the covers over them both. "I love you Kurt," he mumbled before the haze of sleep overtook him.

"I love you more," Kurt whispered.

* * *

><p>Saturday came much too quickly for Blaine's liking. He lay in bed with his eyes open for an hour after actually waking up, staring at the ceiling while he listened to Kurt's steady breathing beside him. The alarm clock read 7:30am; they didn't actually have to leave the house until 11:00, and Blaine just couldn't make his legs move. He could hear the footsteps of his relatives downstairs, the soft clacking of heels that his mom was probably wearing. She was always dressed and ready before anyone else.<p>

Blaine was nervous for the service; he had never been a huge fan of public speaking in the first place, always afraid of stumbling over his words and losing his breath. But the idea of being so vulnerable in front of others – especially some family members that didn't even _like _him – well, that was going to be a challenge.

He felt Kurt stir next to him and turned to look at his boyfriend. The flawless porcelain skin stood out in contrast with the dark green sheets of the bed. Blaine wanted so badly to touch him then, but didn't want to wake him.

_I couldn't have done this without you_, Blaine thought fondly. _Thank you for knowing me better than I know myself_.

As if on cue, Kurt's eyes fluttered open, eyes glazed over still with sleep. He rolled over and smiled, seeing Blaine already awake. "Morning, beautiful."

Blaine's heart fluttered and he leaned over to take Kurt's mouth in his own. "Good morning," he replied once the kiss had ended.

"What was that for?"

Blaine shrugged, petting Kurt's forehead. "Nothing. I just love you so much."

Kurt kissed Blaine again, this time a little more fiercely.

"Kurt, it's a little early," Blaine said roughly, but hardly protesting.

"We have plenty of time," Kurt gasped against Blaine's mouth, pulling him closer.

Who was Blaine to disagree?

Blaine straightened his tie in the mirror and combed through his hair once more. He stared at his reflection, trying not to psych himself out too much. _You can do this_, he chanted to himself, pulling down the sleeves of his suit jacket. _You can do this. For dad._

Kurt came up behind Blaine, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shoulders. "You ready?" he asked simply, but the look in his eyes said it all. Kurt _knew _Blaine could handle this.

"Yeah, I think I am."

"There's one more thing." Kurt left for a moment, returning with something in his hands.

His father's tie.

"Oh, Kurt, I can't – " Blaine began, taking a step back.

Kurt grabbed Blaine's arm, looking down at him seriously. "You _can_," he countered, removing Blaine's current tie with nimble fingers. Blaine shut his eyes, allowing Kurt to fasten the new garment around his neck. "That's much better."

Blaine turned and caught his reflection with the navy and gold tie; he looked more like his father than he realized. Swallowing nervously, Blaine smiled at Kurt. The tie did feel much more comforting than the last one, and it would be nice to have a piece of his father with him during the hardest moment of his life. "Better."

* * *

><p>Blaine walked into the church hand-in-hand with Kurt, taking in the sight before him. There was a line of family and friends from the casket to the doorway, waiting to say their final goodbyes to Steven Anderson. The clergyman stood at the front of the altar next to the casket, holding a candle of his own.<p>

Blaine licked his lips, feeling himself beginning to grow cold the closer he got to the front. Molly stepped up beside the casket, speaking softly to her ex-husband so others could not hear her. Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand one last time in comfort before stepping up himself.

After a few moments, Blaine took Kurt's place; he climbed the small steps with heavy legs, feeling unusually calm once his eyes came to rest on his father's face.

"Hey, Dad," he whispered, taking in the state of his father. He looked so peaceful, like he could just be sleeping. "I'm sorry I didn't get to see you again before…before now. I'm sorry I didn't understand you like I do now." Blaine's voice hitched as he continued. "I guess I have a lot of apologies, but I also have a lot of thanks, too. I want you to know how much you mean to me, still. I know you'll always be with me, to protect me. Even though I didn't know you were doing it most of the time, you always tried to protect me from the world. And now I'm going to have to do that myself." Blaine sniffed, taking a shuddering breath as his emotions threatened to spill over. "I love you, dad. I know I didn't say it enough, but I love you so much. I'm going to miss you."

His eyes lingered one last time on his father before stepping away, taking a seat next to his mother and Kurt for the service. Kurt placed his hand on Blaine's knee firmly in silent support.

"Thank you all for joining us today, in memoriam of Mr. Steven Scott Anderson. If you would please join me in prayer."

The clergyman started a prayer, with the majority of the room joining in mumbled synchronization. Blaine, never particularly religious, concentrated on what he was about to say. He knew what he _wanted _to say, but he didn't know if he would be able to form words around it. He wanted it to be perfect for his father, for his family. For the other men and women he didn't know, probably old colleagues of his dad's.

"Blaine, would you care to say a few words?"

Blaine's head snapped up and Kurt rubbed his shoulder. He looked to Kurt, hazel eyes bright with surprise, but Kurt's calming gaze seemed to settle his nerves. Blaine wiped his palms on his slacks before walking to the altar. The clergyman gave him an encouraging nod before stepping back, allowing Blaine to take the attention.

Blaine settled behind the podium, looking out into the audience. His mother and Kurt sat front and center, both with identical loving smiles. That was all the encouragement Blaine needed.

"Good afternoon," he started, clearing his throat once he realized how ragged he was speaking. "Thank you all for coming; my dad would have appreciated this so much." Blaine paused, gathering his thoughts before he really got into what he was saying. "My dad and I, we didn't understand each other growing up. He was so strict and stoic, and I was more bright and energetic. Rebellious, I guess you could say. I just couldn't understand why we didn't _click_."

Blaine's eyes connected with Kurt's, who nodded minutely. "So I grew up, thinking that would be the way things were. Me and my mom, with a father I would visit every so often and be good acquaintances with. But I was so wrong.

"Oddly enough, it was when I came out as gay that my father and I became closer than ever." Blaine made eye contact with Dan, who immediately avoided his gaze. Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat, continuing. "He didn't understand, at first. He never had to _deal _with that kind of thing, with someone he loved being so different. But that didn't stop him from loving me. And it didn't stop him from protecting me. My being gay seemed to ignite something within him, some force that urged him to defend me at all costs. Even though he didn't fully understand _me_, he didn't ever hesitate to protect me. He knew I was different, but he also knew I wasn't wrong.

"I didn't realize it, at the time. I'll admit I sometimes used my sexuality as a crutch, saying my father would do or say things _because _I was gay, and he was disappointed in me. I didn't see, then, how every single thing he did was for me. His entire personality didn't change, so all I saw was what I had seen my entire life: a strict, by-the-book father who was afraid to show his true feelings. I failed to realize that the _reason _he didn't let anyone in is because he didn't want anyone – including himself – hurt. Sure, there were times where I was disappointed. He was a workaholic, so growing up I was devastated when we didn't catch a movie or go to the aquarium. But he was there when I needed a friend, when I needed a father. Whenever someone spoke out against me, he was quick to put them in their place. When I was hurting or alone, he would find me and seek out those who did me wrong. At the time, I didn't realize that he was doing so much for me – risking his _reputation _to make sure that I was loved. I didn't see the meaning behind his actions, and now I desperately wish I had.

"Dad taught me a lot growing up. He taught me how to play football, how to write in cursive. He taught me how to speak properly, how to make myself look presentable for others, even though I may not have completely agreed with him. Dad taught me how to stay strong, even when everything is crumbling around you. He taught me how a real man acts, even when he's scared to death of a disease that is consuming him.

"He taught me more since his passing, actually, than anything else. That family and love is worth more than anything else in this world. That you have to look past someone's exterior, because even though you may think you know their story or what they're going through, you don't. There was so much _good _in my dad that others – including myself, at times – overlooked, because all we saw was the stoic man in the gray suit. In actuality, I think Dad had a bigger heart than most people I've met in my life."

Blaine took a deep, steadying breath. "My dad loved all of us so much, but he showed it in unconventional ways. That's why, as he's looking down on us right now, he'll be smiling. Because we're all together, getting through this by way of love. His love." Blaine looked up at the ceiling of the church and smiled. "I love you, dad. Thank you for everything."

* * *

><p>Blaine stood in the cemetery, once again holding onto Kurt's hand like his life depended on it. His mother stood on his other side, her arm around his shoulder. Blaine watched as another prayer was recited, the casket being held just above the burial site. He bowed his head, letting the words, which would normally hold little meaning to Blaine, comfort his heart.<p>

Deafening silence encompassed him when the prayer was over, and he looked up to see the casket beginning to be lowered into the ground. With a shaky voice, Blaine began his song; he had prepared it the night before, unbeknownst to Kurt and his family.

_This is my temporary home  
>It's not where I belong.<br>Windows in rooms  
>That I'm passing through.<br>This is just a stop  
>On the way to where I'm going,<br>I'm not afraid because I know  
>This is my temporary home.<em>

"_Hey dad, can I tell you something?" Blaine asked, unsure. He stood nervously in front of his father, chewing on the inside of his lip. This would be the biggest decision he has ever made._

_Steven looked up from his newspaper, lowering his glasses. He took in Blaine's stance, appearing to think for a moment before answering. "Yes, Blaine, of course."_

"_I…well, I wanted to tell you…Dad, I'm gay."_

_Blaine immediately looked down to the floor, not in shame, but in fear. He already felt distant from his father; he didn't need anything else tearing them apart. However, this was who he was, and it would be unfair to keep that from his dad._

_Steven folded his paper carefully, removing his glasses altogether. He stood, crossing over to Blaine. "You're sure?" he asked impassively, looking down at his son._

_Blaine glanced up, nodding. "Yeah, yes, I'm sure."_

_Steven sighed, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Okay."_

_The reaction was so small, so unanticipated, that Blaine tilted his head in confusion. He wasn't expecting a celebration, but he definitely wasn't expecting _okay_. "Okay?"_

"_You're my son, Blaine. That's all that matters to me. I'll work through the rest."_

_Blaine threw himself at his father, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "Thank you."_

Blaine felt the hot tears spill onto his cheeks; he knew they were coming. Back then, he was relieved that his father didn't shun him for being gay; he never saw, however, just how much love and sacrifice it took for his dad to accept it as much as he did. Kurt's thumb rubbed along the back of his hand, and he turned to see Kurt shedding tears of his own. Kurt looked on, watching the casket being lowered into the ground. Blaine turned back to the scene before him.

_Young mom, on her own  
>She needs a little help<br>Got nowhere to go.  
>She's looking for a job<br>Looking for a way out  
>'Cause a halfway house<br>Will never be a home.  
>At night she whispers<br>To her baby girl  
>'Someday we'll find our<br>Place here in this world.'_

"_Blaine, I'm not sure this dance is a good idea," Steven warned, crossing his arms._

_Blaine whipped around to face his father, face outraged. "What do you mean, 'not a good idea'?" he demanded. The one night he had been looking forward to for months, and his dad was trying to put an end to it._

"_I just mean that It might not be…in the best interest for you to attend."_

"_Because I'm _gay_? You know, I found someone who wanted to go with me, if that's what you're referring to." Blaine knew he was overreacting, but he couldn't keep the edge out of his voice._

_Steven sighed, looking desperately at his son. "That's not what I mean, Blaine. I'm happy you're going with someone, I just don't want you getting hurt. Some people, they just don't…understand."_

_Blaine shook his head, walking around his father toward the door. "Yeah, well, I can take care of myself, Dad. I just want _one _night, just one, to enjoy myself and not think about how different I am."_

"_Blaine, wait." Steven called to him, but Blaine had already left the house._

_Steven got the phone call at 11:00pm; Blaine had been rushed to the hospital, and his date had been put into a coma._

_This is our temporary home  
>It's not where we belong.<br>Windows in rooms  
>That we're passing through.<br>This is just a stop  
>On the way to where we're going.<br>I'm not afraid because I know  
>This is our temporary home.<em>

Blaine looked to his mom, who stood with a trembling lip; she was trying so hard not to cry, Blaine knew. He took her arm in his as he continued.

_Old man, hospital bed  
>The room is filled with people he loves.<br>And he whispers, 'don't cry for me,  
>I'll see you all someday.'<br>He looks up and says,  
>'I can see God's face.'<em>

Those who had been carrying his father stepped back now, and others stepped forward in turn, offering different floral arrangements into the grave before the casket was buried.

"_Dad, this is Kurt," Blaine introduced, gesturing to the boy behind him._

_Steven looked Kurt up and down, nodding. He finally extended his hand, shaking Kurt's in a firm grip. "A pleasure to meet you, Kurt," he spoke, only the slightest edge to his voice._

"_The pleasure's all mine," Kurt assured brightly._

"_Is this…is this your boyfriend, Blaine?"_

_Blaine felt the blood drain from his face, and Kurt looked at him questioningly; neither of them knew how to approach this situation._

"_Um. Well, yes, Kurt's my boyfriend," Blaine rushed, not exactly comfortable discussing such endeavors with his father just yet._

_Steven nodded, looking between the two boys. "Well, I was wondering when this would happen," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You two promise you're being safe."_

_Blaine's face flushed. "Dad, please."_

"_I mean it," he added sternly. "And look after each other." Steven gave a pointed look towards Kurt, as if stressing how much he wanted Kurt to look out for Blaine._

"_We promise, sir," Kurt emphasized seriously._

_Steven nodded once more, giving one last look before turning and exiting the room._

_Blaine covered his face in his hands. "God, Kurt, I'm so sorry," he groaned. "My dad, he's not the most _personable _person in the world. I'm sorry if that was horribly awkward."_

_Kurt shook his head. "No, it's okay. I like your dad, Blaine. I just think we understand each other."_

_Later that night, Kurt had a discussion with Blaine, wherein he vowed to protect him. No matter what._

_This is my temporary home,  
>It's not where I belong.<br>Windows in rooms  
>That I'm passing through.<br>This was just a stop  
>On the way to where I'm going.<br>I'm not afraid because I know  
>This was my temporary home.<em>

Blaine watched the scene before him, transfixed on the casket and the emotions running through him. He knew he was honoring his father's passing in this way. Blaine could see him, could see his face, and the love that always shone in his eyes. Blaine didn't always notice it, but the constant love was always there. It comforted Blaine to realize that now, to know just how much his father loved him. And he would always love him back.

_This was our temporary home._

* * *

><p>The Andersons walked back toward the parking lot, silence broken only by the tapping of high heels on the pavement or the occasional hushed whisper. Blaine held his mother's hand, wanted to be her strength as the funeral started to sink in. Kurt walked beside him, black coattails swaying behind him in the light breeze.<p>

As they reached their car, Blaine felt a hand on his shoulder. "Blaine."

He turned to face Dan, who was looking between Blaine and Kurt uncomfortably. "Can I help you?" Blaine asked impassively. Blaine never believed in being cold to others, especially family, but he was not eager to speak with his uncle.

"Uh, yeah, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Blaine. In private."

Blaine saw Kurt's look of disapproval, and he knew Kurt had every reason to dislike Dan. However, Blaine knew Dan wouldn't give him the time of day if it wasn't important.

"I'll meet you guys at the car."

Kurt reluctantly agreed, leading Molly back to the parking lot. Blaine turned again, crossing his arms. "What can I do for you Uncle Dan?"

Daniel shuffled his feet, clearly nervous. "I just wanted to tell you that your eulogy, Blaine, was uh…very beautiful."

Blaine blinked, unsure of where this was going. "Um, thank you." The thanks came out as more of a question than anything else.

Dan rubbed the back of his neck, nodding. "Yeah, and I just wanted to say…well, I wanted to say sorry." He swallowed when Blaine didn't respond, not wanting to elaborate. "I'm sorry for…everything, I guess. For making things worse for you, when I'm sure they were…difficult already." Dan looked Blaine in the eyes for the first time since starting their conversation. "I'm sorry for what I said about you. What I said to you. Now that Steven's dead, I guess I just…don't want things to continue being what they were. Jesus." Dan pinched the bridge of his nose. "What you said today, it just…it reminded me of the best in my brother. And that family…family is the most important thing, isn't it? I regret so much that I stopped talking to him, over something I didn't understand."

Blaine's mouth went dry; Dan was _apologizing _to him? "I – thank you, Uncle Dan. It means a lot to me," he began, searching for the proper response to something so heavy. "I think Dad would have wanted us to get along."

"I don't…I don't know if I agree with your choices, Blaine," Dan began again, looking over Blaine's shoulder where Kurt stood by the car. "But I'm not going to hate you for it, I don't think. I mean, it's not all of who you are, so I guess I can remember that."

Blaine sighed, nodding slowly. "It's a start."

* * *

><p>"I think that's the last of it," Blaine grunted, jamming the duffel bag into the trunk. It was more difficult to pack everything in this time, as they had decided to take some of Steven's old belongings with them. The funeral had been three days ago, and as much as Kurt stressed they could stay as long as Blaine needed to, Blaine felt that they should be on their way.<p>

"You're lucky I don't make crazy maneuvers while I drive, otherwise our backend would be everywhere on the way home," Kurt laughed.

Molly descended the porch steps, stopping in front of the pair. "Have a safe trip home, boys." She pulled Kurt in close, kissing him on top of the head. "Thank you so much for coming, Kurt," she said once she pulled back. "It meant a lot to have you here."

"Of course, Molly. I wouldn't have been anywhere else."

Molly took Blaine's face in her hands, smiling gently. "Blaine, I love you so much," she breathed.

Blaine wrapped his arms around his mother, breathing in her scent. "I love you too, Mom."

"Promise you'll take care of yourself."

"I promise."

"Good." Molly reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Here, this is for you. I found it in your father's house, but I thought it would be best to give it to you after the funeral."

Blaine took the letter from her, running his fingers lightly along the edges. "Thank you."

Molly rubbed Blaine's shoulder affectionately before taking a step back. "You best be going before the traffic gets too bad."

"Yeah. I'll call you," Blaine promised. Never before had he meant it so much.

"Please do."

As Kurt pulled out of the driveway, Blaine watched his mother wave in the rearview mirror until he could no longer make out her form.

"Are you going to open it?" Kurt asked, glancing briefly at the envelope in Blaine's hands.

Blaine looked down; he had been thumbing the paper for the past hour, almost afraid to open it. It was silly, really – there was no reason for him _not _to read it. But Blaine feared that the letter would, in some way, ruin all of the building he had done over the past two weeks.

"I think you should open it," Kurt suggested, perhaps able to sense Blaine's unease.

He always could.

Blaine licked his lips. "Okay."

He tore at the paper, removing the two folded sheets inside.

_Blaine,_

_I'm not sure where to begin this. With all of the therapies I have done lately, and extra radiation sessions they've scheduled, I don't know how much time I really have left. Which means that I want to tell you everything I haven't been able to before. I know we haven't talked in some time, and I'm not the most articulate person when it comes to my feelings, so I thought I'd give you this letter instead._

_First and foremost, I want you to know how much you mean to me. Blaine, you are my son. My only child. I remember when you were born, it was like I had grown a second heart. I didn't know you could have so much room to love so much. Ever since then, I swore that you would always come first to me._

_Of course, my work often got in the way of that, I know. Sometimes I bet it felt like I didn't care, that I was so preoccupied with my job that I forgot you were around; but I never did. Sure, I lost sight sometimes of what was really important, but I never forgot about you, Blaine._

_When your mother and I divorced, I prayed that it wouldn't negatively affect you. You were at that age, that fragile age when everything could shape you, mold you into who you would eventually become. Thankfully you were always mature beyond your years. You could grasp the idea of the divorce without going through the guilt and turmoil that many other kids do. I was so relieved._

_Blaine, it broke my heart that you didn't live under my roof anymore. Every time you were coming over, I looked forward to that visit more than you could ever know. I know when you were younger you wanted to go out and do things that maybe I didn't have the time or money for, but just your presence, you being there, was more important to me than anything else. I could sit in the room in silence with you and it would be enough for me._

_Then your mother called me, telling me that some kids at school had beaten you, and I couldn't handle it. It took all of my willpower not to go find those kids and their parents, hunt them down and let them have it for hurting you. And I didn't know why they had done it, either. That was the killer. Your mother knew already, but I could not figure out for the life of me why someone would want to hurt my child._

_When you told me you were gay, Blaine, it was the hardest – and the easiest – moment of my life. Easy, because I knew that your being gay wouldn't change how I felt about you. Hardest, because I had never dealt with anything like this before. I knew only one gay person before, and it was in high school growing up. He didn't have any friends, he was constantly picked on, and I was afraid that was what was in store for you. I didn't know how it would affect our family's reputation, or my career at work. I didn't know if it just a passing phase for you, or if the world would even be safe for you anymore. Really, gay was just something I heard about on the news, or watched in movies or on TV. It sounds ridiculous, but I didn't know how to handle it. I knew that I still loved you, and that you were the same kid you had always been, but I was unsure of how to move forward and how to protect you. I wanted to be the best father I could be for you, but this was just another roadblock for me. _

_I always liked your boyfriend Kurt, Blaine. He's respectful, polite, and smart. He cares deeply for you, and he doesn't waste time with unnecessary frivolities – he's to-the-point, and I like that about him. When I first met him, I wasn't sure I would like him at all, though. He was your first boyfriend, of course, and I didn't know if he had any experience in the department. I didn't know if he would take advantage of you, or lead you down the wrong path, as it were. But I felt like we clicked, him and I, and I trusted him to look after you when I could not._

_I want you to know that I do not regret cutting ties with Dan either. I didn't want anything to do with anyone who spoke so lowly of you. If I could accept everything about you and love you just as much, even though I didn't understand everything, there was no reason that he couldn't either. I do hope that one day he comes to his senses and realizes what a wonderful person you are, Blaine. I want you two to get along and be able to be family again. But if he continues to ignore us and hold his ignorance, then that's his own doing. If I had to do everything over again, I would have made the same decision._

_Someday, Blaine, the world won't be full of the hate and ignorance that claim it right now. You will be able to marry any partner of your choosing without fear of protest, and no one will hurt you or call out slurs when you walk down the street. Someday, you will be able to be yourself, and everyone will accept you for who you are. I want desperately to see that day, but I know, with the time I am given, that I may have to watch it happen from somewhere else. But Blaine, I know you can help shape the world, so it will be one step closer to being what I dream it will be._

_I hope that this letter provides you with at least some insight into what I've been feeling for so long. I've tried to show you these things in my own ways, but I know that sometimes my ways of communicating aren't the easiest to understand. I'm sorry if I haven't been the full support you've needed Blaine, but do know that I have always done whatever I could for you._

_I love you._

_Dad_

Blaine drew in an uneven, ragged breath, and he felt Kurt's eyes on him as tears began to fall once more.

"Are you okay, Blaine?" Kurt asked worriedly, reaching for Blaine's hand. "I can pull over if you need."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand in reassurance, shaking his head. "No, no I'm okay," he said, folding the letter and holding it close to his chest. "More than okay, actually." Blaine looked out the window, watching as the scenery rolled by. He finally had his life back together. Everything felt the way it was supposed to be, everything felt _right_.

Somewhere, Blaine knew his father was smiling at him.

End.


End file.
